


A Song of Travelers

by Siri_Black



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Play, Anal Sex, BAMF Ned Stark, Bisexuality, Brothels, Catelyn Tully Stark Doesn't Hate Jon Snow, Cousin Incest, Dimension Travel, Direwolves (ASoIaF), Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Female Jon Snow, Femslash, Gods as Avatars, Incest, Jon Snow Doesn't Join the Night's Watch, Jon Snow Knows Something, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark is not the Endgame, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Menstruation, Moresomes, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Period-Typical Underage, Polyamory, Prostitution, Public Sex, R Plus L Equals J | Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen are Jon Snow's Parents, Semi-Public Sex, Slash, Smart Ned Stark, Stronger Night's Watch, Stronger North, Threesome - F/F/F, Threesome - F/F/M, Threesome - F/M/M, Time Travel, Underage Sex, teenage prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 41,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29026923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siri_Black/pseuds/Siri_Black
Summary: At the culmination of the Battle of the Bells/Battle of King’s Landing, after killing Daenerys, Jon Snow is murdered by the Unsullied in retaliation. In the afterlife, he finds himself in the Godswood of Winterfell, where the Old Gods speak to him, then send him back in time weeks before King Robert’s arrival to Winterfell. However, there are three major changes: the world is not exactly the same as he knows it, there are others who have traveled back in time as well, and the most shocking change: Jon is now a girl named Lyarra Snow, also known as Visenya Targaryen!NOTE: This is my very first Game Of Thrones Story. I am mostly a fan of the show than the books, and I know very little in the books. I will mainly be following the show canon, though there will be book moments and several characters from the books as well. So please bear with me, and remember this, as I write this story.Disclaimer: George R.R. Martin and HBO own A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones. I do not. I’m just playing in their sandbox.
Relationships: Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Domeric Bolton/Original Female Character(s), Eventual Arya Stark/Gendry Waters - Relationship, Eventual Bran Stark/Meera Reed, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Jon Snow/Original Female Characters, Jon Snow/Original Male Character(s), Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Khal Drogo/Daenerys Targaryen, Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Past Cersei Lannister/Jamie Lannister, Ros/Jon Snow, Sansa Stark/Original Male Character(s), Wynafryd Manderly/Robb Stark
Comments: 27
Kudos: 77





	1. Jon Snow/Lyarra I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my very first Game Of Thrones Story. I am mostly a fan of the show than the books, and I know very little in the books. I will mainly be following the show canon, though there will be book moments and several characters from the books as well. So please bear with me, and remember this, as I write this story.
> 
> Heed the Warnings in this note. This chapter has a lot of descriptions of explicit sexual situations involving underage characters. The story as a whole has a lot of explicit sexual stuff in several chapters, though some are far in between. But this is Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire, so that should be expected!
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Nudity; Graphic Sexual Situations Involving Underage Characters; Starkcest; Cousin Incest; Fem-Slash; Allusions to: Oral Sex, Anal Play, Masturbation, Brothels, Prostitution/Teenage Prostitution, and Menstruation

******Jon Snow** **  
  
**

The last thing Jon Snow remembered before he blacked out was the angry voice of Grey Worm, the Captain of the Unsullied Army, then a sharp burst of pain in his back, before he collapsed next to the body of Daenerys Targaryen, whom he had just stabbed in the heart, during the culmination of the Battle of King’s Landing.  
  
When he awoke again, he was on his back, looking up at the blue sky. Jon Snow wondered if he was dead again, or had he somehow survived the attempted assassination by Grey Worm. He had died before and had been brought back to life, but during that brief period of death, he had only experienced the black darkness of nothing. At least, that is what he had remembered. This was nothing like that, however. Was he truly dead this time?  
  
Jon sat up, feeling none of the pains from the wound in his back, nor the fatigue or pains of the battle he had just been through. He also didn’t feel cold, even though he was laying in snow. The air around him didn’t feel bitter cold, or even just a bit chilly either. He looked around and instantly recognized his surroundings. He was in the Godswood of Winterfell, and was sitting on the ground near the Heart Tree.  
  
 _What am I doing here?_ Jon wondered, _I was just in the Red Keep of King’s Landing? How did I get back here in Winterfell?  
  
_ “This is not Winterfell, Jon Snow,” a booming voice called out.  
  
“Who is that?!” Jon demanded, as he struggled to get to his feet, “Where are you?!”  
  
He reached toward his waist, ready to grab Longclaw, but found that -- while he was wearing the same clothing and armor he had worn during the battle -- the sword was nowhere to be found.  
  
“What do you mean this isn’t Winterfell?!” Jon demanded, “This is Winterfell! This is the Godswood in Winterfell!”  
  
“It looks like the Godswood in Winterfell to you, Jon Snow,” the same booming voice called out, and Jon realized the voice was coming from the face in the Heart Tree; “Because that is where you most commonly spoke to us. If you wish, if it would make you more comfortable, you could be at the Heart Tree where you spoke the Night’s Watch vows instead.”  
  
“‘Us’?” Jon echoed, “You are one of the Old Gods?”  
  
“I am,” the voice said, “And you are currently in our domain.”  
  
Jon knew the Old Gods of the Forest were nameless, so he did not ask if this God had one. What he did ask was the first question that came to his mind.  
  
“Am I dead?” Jon asked.  
  
“Yes… and no,” the Old God said.  
  
“Well, thanks for clarifying that,” Jon said, sarcastically.  
  
“This is not the first time you have died, Jon Snow,” the Old God said, “You died once and were brought back to life once before. The reason you are in our domain is this: we offer to bring you back to life once again.”  
  
Jon snorted. “I am probably dead because I killed Daenerys. If I am brought back to life, I will likely just be executed again for the same crime. If I am lucky, I’ll simply be exiled. That doesn’t sound like a great life to go back to.”  
  
“You misunderstand, Jon Snow,” the Old God said, “You would not be going back to the moment you died. We would give you a second chance, a chance to save those you have lost over the length of your life.”  
  
Jon swallowed. “My mother?”  
  
“And how could a newborn babe save his mother?” the Old God said, in a tone that oozed sarcasm; their tone then turned serious; “Not your mother. Your father -- or rather the man you once believed was your father.”  
  
Jon smiled slightly. “I could save Lord Eddard?”  
  
“He would be alive,” the Old God replied. “Whether or not you would save his life, or perhaps even prevent the circumstances of his original death, is yet to be seen. Perhaps the circumstances that lead to his death will never happen. You would return long before his original date of death, that is for certain.”  
  
“When would I return to?” Jon asked.  
  
“Before you met your faithful direwolf companion,” the Old God said, “whether it is weeks or months prior to that event, is uncertain.”  
  
“If you would send me back, why is the date of my return uncertain to you?” Jon asked, confused.  
  
“We should not call it a return,” the Old God said, “But a reincarnation. For the world you would arrive in is different in many ways from the world you know. Some events you have experienced or know about may not happen. Some might, but in different ways. In other ways, it is completely different and unrecognizable to you. The present time in which you arrive might be unrecognizable in different ways, because of what changes might already have taken place.”  
  
“Changes?” Jon asked.  
  
“You would not be the only person,” the Old God answered, “who has died in your world and has woken up in this changed world.”  
  
“I wouldn’t be the only one?” Jon asked, alarmed.  
  
“No,” the Old God said, “There are others. Whether they arrived before you, at the same time as yourself, or after your arrival is the question. There is already one who came back, and is currently in Winterfell. They are partially, if not fully, responsible for many of the changes that will be unfamiliar to you in that world. They have already been forewarned of your possible arrival as well. That is… if you choose to agree to do this. However, before you answer, you should know that there would already be one major change to your life if you should return.”  
  
“And that is?” Jon asked.  
  
“In this changed world, Jon Snow does not exist,” the Old God said. “Lyanna Stark gave birth to a daughter, whom she called Visenya, as Rhaegar Targaryen would have wanted. Eddard Stark named her Lyarra Snow.”  
  
“I am -- I would be a girl?!” Jon asked, alarmed.  
  
“Indeed you would be,” the Old God said.  
  
“But… why?!” Jon asked, “Why send me to a place where I am a girl? Why not where I am still me?!”  
  
“Because the world in which Lyarra Snow, also known as Visenya Targaryen, was born,” the Old God replied, “Might just allow a future to play out in far different ways than a world where a second son of Rhaegar Targaryen existed. Returning to the life you had, while some things might change -- whether those changes are because of you or someone else -- there is a better chance that it would, inevitably, end in similar ways.”  
  
“I don’t understand,” Jon said.  
  
“Think, Jon Snow,” the Old God voice boomed again, “how would Daenerys Targaryen have reacted to the news of a niece, instead of a nephew? Would she have been more or less threatened by Lyarra -- by the possibility of Visenya Targaryen taking her throne? Would she be interested in romance with a niece instead of a nephew? A romance that saw the both of you dead at the end of it all?”  
  
Jon swallowed. “It is possible she would feel less threatened. I also doubt romance would be on her mind. Her attractions were obviously toward men. Although… if she couldn’t have children, she might be threatened by the possibility of Lyarra having a future child of Targaryen blood, who would qualify to become Prince and King. Or…. or she would wish to claim one of Lyarra’s children as her own heir.’

‘Indeed, these things are possible,” the Old God said, “Also Lyarra Snow would not be tempted to go to the Night’s Watch, as it would not be possible, unless she wanted to go the same way as Brave Danny Flint.”  
  
Jon grimaced at that thought. “Much would be different in the Night’s Watch. First of all, I saved Jeor Mormont from the Wight! If I’m not there to do that, then…”  
  
“The Night’s Watch is different, stronger in this changed world, Jon Snow,” the Old God stated, “Jeor Mormont might not suffer such a fate even without you being there to save his life.  
  
“If you decide to agree with our offer, as Lyarra Snow, you would have the ability to remember everything that has happened in Lyarra’s past. Everything she can remember, you would remember too -- perhaps even more clearly than she would, so that you could recall important and necessary information.”  
  
“What would happen to Lyarra if I become her?” Jon asked, curiously. “I don’t want to steal her life!”  
  
“She would die of an illness shortly if you refuse and… move on, shall we say?” the Old God said. “During a training spar with Robb Stark, she would get cut by a sword, and the infection of the cut would kill her. If you become her, that would not happen.”  
  
“A training spar?” Jon asked, “She’s a warrior?”  
  
“She is,” the Old God agreed, “She is not as good as you are, of course, but if your muscle memory of swordplay returns with you -- which is possible -- you would greatly improve that which she already knows, when it comes to sparring and sword fighting.  
  
“Now, Jon Snow, you must decide. Will you become Lyarra Snow, also known as Visenya Targaryen, or will you move on to the afterlife?”  
  
Jon was tempted to ask the Old God if there _was_ an afterlife, and, if so, what was it? But he decided against it. He frowned, thinking deeply. What should he do? On one hand, if he did choose to do this, he would be living a life as a girl, which was difficult to process. On the other hand, he could help to save not only every member of his family, and all those he cared for, and Winterfell and the North, as well as Westeros, but also possibly prevent or change the War of the Five Kings, and even stop the Long Night, and the Night King much sooner than he had done in his previous life.  
  
Jon blinked, realizing the answer to the Old God’s question was a lot easier than he had thought it would be.  
  
“I will become Lyarra Snow,” Jon said, resolutely.  
  
“Then from now on you are no longer Jon Snow, though you will remember his life and retain his memories, and perhaps much more,” the Old God said. “Now you are Lyarra Snow, also known as Visenya Targaryen. Be on the lookout for other travelers who have made similar journeys. You will meet one of these travelers sooner than you might think. They have been waiting for you. Good luck, Lyarra Snow.”  
  
As soon as the Old God stopped speaking, Jon Snow blacked out once again. He was not consumed in darkness however, but a bright light.  
  


* * *

**Lyarra I**

  
Lyarra Snow, a girl much different than the one who had fallen asleep the night before, awoke and adjusted her eyes to the darkness. When she could see, she found that she was in the same childhood bedroom of her past life, although it did not look the same. She moved to sit up, and take a better look around her, but found that something was preventing her from doing so.  
  
Or rather _someone._ _  
__  
_Lyarra almost fell off the bed when she found Sansa Stark, looking far younger than the last time she had seen the girl -- possibly thirteen years of age? -- lying next to her, fast asleep, with her arms curled around Lyarra’s waist. The next thing Lyarra realized was that she was completely naked. She raised up her blankets and found that Sansa was naked as well!  
  
 _What in the hells?!_ Lyarra mentally exclaimed, _Why is Sansa sleeping in my bed? And why are we both naked?!_ _  
__  
_Lyarra then remembered one of the last things the Old God had told her, that she could visit her memories and vividly recall them. She did so and searched the memories of the night before. Lyarra was shocked at what she had found. She found herself, and Sansa, in intimate nude embrace, and either performing or receiving sexual acts on each other, whether it be kissing each other, or using their mouths and hands on each other’s bodies, breasts and pussies.  
  
So she and Sansa were… lovers? Lyarra searched her memories and found that this intimate relationship with Sansa had been going on for a few moons now. It had begun with Sansa innocently coming into Lyarra’s room, after claiming to have a nightmare, and wishing to sleep beside her. It seemed Lyarra and Sansa were much closer in this world than Jon and Sansa had been at this same time. Much, _much_ closer. Every couple of days, the same scenarios would continue, with Sansa coming in and wanting to sleep beside Lyarra.  
  
Then things between Lyarra and Sansa had gotten more serious. One evening Sansa had meant to kiss Lyarra on the cheek before going to sleep, when Lyarra accidentally turned her face, and Sansa’s lips landed on hers. It was a quick kiss, and both girls were quite embarrassed by the event. Things between the girls had been a little awkward after that and Sansa hadn’t returned to Lyarra’s room for three more nights. Lyarra found herself vividly looking back to that night.  
  
 _Sansa crawled into the bed and laid down next to Lyarra._ _  
__  
__“I’ve been thinking about that... accidental kiss, Lya,” Sansa said, using the nickname for Lyarra that the Stark children, and others, sometimes called her, “And… I think... I think I liked it more than I should have.”_ _  
__  
__“Me too,” Lyarra admitted._ _  
__  
__“It was my first kiss,” Sansa said, “At first I was a little… I was upset that my first kiss happened like that. But after thinking about it, I didn’t mind that much that you were the one to kiss me first. It… it wasn’t your first kiss. I know that. I know you visit the brothel in Winter Town.”_ _  
__  
_The present Lyarra blinked at that statement, and looked back in her memories. She found that Sansa’s statement was indeed true. Lyarra did indeed have visits to the brothel -- several visits over the past couple of years. Apparently she had overheard Theon and Robb talking about the brothel, and had gotten curious about it. Lyarra would only have encounters with the female prostitutes, none of the males. Lyarra then noted that, while she no longer had her maidenhead, due to rough horseback riding over the years, she had never once laid with a boy or man. She was still a maiden in that regard. However, she had laid with some of the girls and women in the brothel. The youngest girl she had lain with was about Sansa’s age. She had only laid with girls and women in the brothel, however, before Sansa. Sansa was the first girl outside the brothel she had laid with. Most of the time, it seemed she wound up with the prostitute Ros, who she knew was one of Theon Greyjoy’s favorites. Ros, it turned out, had been the first prostitute he had lain with, and the girl had been her first kiss. Because Ros was her first, it seemed she had become Lyarra’s favorite.  
  
Noting that, Lyarra returned to the older memory of her and Sansa.  
  
 _“Yes, I have kissed several girls,” Lyarra said, “But no men. I have yet to kiss a man.”_ _  
__  
__“And you’ve laid with them -- the women I mean,” Sansa asked._ _  
__  
__“I have,” Lyarra replied, “A few times.”_ _  
__  
__More than a few, actually. A lot more._ _  
__  
__“Lyarrra?” Sansa asked, “Can… can you teach me?”_ _  
__  
__“What?” Lyarra replied, half in shock, and half in disbelief that the prim and proper Sansa would ask her such a question._ _  
__  
__“I want you to teach me how to lay with women,” Sansa clarified, even though Lyarra knew what she meant. “I want… I want to try it with you.”_ _  
__  
__“Are you sure, Sansa?” Lyarra asked._ _  
__  
__“Yes,” Sansa said. “I want to do this with you.”_ _  
__  
__“Not tonight,” Lyarra said, after a few moments of thought. “Let me think about it. It will also give you time to think about it as well… think about whether or not you’d really want to do this.”_ _  
__  
__Sansa looked ready to argue, then her expression softened. She nodded and turned away from Lyarra, staring at the ceiling in thought._ _  
__  
_It turned out Lyarra did think about it. For three days. For those three days, Sansa did not return to Lyarra’s room. Then Lyarra asked Sansa to come to her room. That night, after reaffirming with Sansa that she wanted to go through with her plans, to which Sansa responded with a resolute agreement, Lyarra laid with Sansa for the first time. She was very careful with her, being soft and gentle with her playing. She had mainly focused using her hands above Sansa’s waist, especially around Sansa’s breasts which had barely begun to grow into small mounds that were scarcely noticeable when Sansa wore clothes. Lyarra used her mouth on much of Sansa’s body, whether it was on her lips, face, neck, breasts, and then finally down to her pussy. Lyarra ended Sansa’s first time by using her mouth and tongue on Sansa’s pussy, giving her what turned out to be the girl’s very first orgasm. Sansa had gone to sleep, curled up to Lyarra, completely naked and exhausted, but also quite satisfied.  
  
Lyarra had been surprised to learn that Sansa hadn’t introduced herself yet to the pleasures of masturbation. So two days later, when Sansa returned to Lyarra’s bed, Lyarra spent the first several minutes teaching Sansa how to masturbate. The first thing she taught her was to be very careful with her fingers, especially inside her pussy. While it wasn’t too easy to do so, masturbating could damage or tear one’s maidenhead, which Sansa still had. At first, when she heard that warning, Sansa had been wary to begin masturbating, but had gotten braver after Lyarra helped her, by using her own fingers on Sansa’s pussy, first on the outside, rubbing the younger girl’s nether lips and such, then gently prodding her fingers inside. Lyarra had instructed her how much of her fingers Sansa should put inside her. Lyarra had stopped playing with Sansa, before she had given the girl an orgasm, and told Sansa to try to do it herself. Sansa performed admirably during her first time masturbating, though the orgasm she had given herself would prove to be much weaker than the one Lyarra would give her with her tongue that evening.  
  
Lyarra and Sansa’s ‘playing’ took place two to three times a week, and only at night right before they went to sleep. For nearly two weeks into their newly upgraded relationship, Lyarra barely, if at all, used her hands and fingers on Sansa’s pussy when she pleasured the girl, and only on and against the girl’s nether lips and never inside her. Until Sansa proved that she could routinely and successfully masturbate herself to a satisfying orgasm using her fingers outside and inside her pussy, Lyarra did not stick a finger inside her again.  
  
It took nearly three weeks, before Lyara allowed Sansa to be the one to do the pleasuring to Lyarra. Even then, it took Sansa nearly another week of being taught by Lyanna, before she could give the older girl a satisfying orgasm using her mouth and fingers on the older girl’s pussy, without Lyarra having to masturbate herself afterward to have said satisfying orgasm. After that, Lyarra and Sansa took turns during each ‘play session’ pleasuring each other to one or two orgasms before going to bed.  
  
It wasn’t until a couple moons or so ago that Lyarra had introduced Sansa to the joys of anal play. Lyarra had only done so because a few days before, she had a very memorable experience with the prostitute, Ros, playing with her bum -- something she had been experiencing on occasion for well over a year now. At first Sansa had been very wary of the suggestion, even a bit disgusted. Even after Lyarra had suggested it, it had taken until the next play session three days later, before Sansa had decided she was open to Lyarra introducing her to it. At first, Lyarra had just used her fingers, teasing Sansa’s rosebud, and rubbing around it, then gently slipping her middle finger inside Sansa’s rear hole and slowly prodding at it. She would also lick and pleasure Sansa’s pussy while sliding her finger back and forth inside Sansa’s bum. Sansa’s first orgasm during this new experience had come a lot quicker and even a bit harder, than most of her past orgasms. Sansa was _quite_ agreeable after that to the occasional bout ot anal play. After that, things had evolved, to two fingers, sliding inside Sansa’s bum at various speeds, then Lyarra using her mouth, licking and poking her tongue in and out of Sansa’s hole.  
  
However, Sansa was still wary even to this day of reciprocating when it came to anal play. Yes, on occasion, she used one or two fingers, pleasuring Lyarra’s bum while she pleasured the older girl’s pussy with her mouth, but had never once used her mouth on Lyarra’s bum yet. Lyarra didn’t mind. She had other partners -- especially Ros! -- who would use their mouth on her bum if she wanted them to.  
  
Blushing furiously at how promiscuous and sexual the old Lyarra apparently was, when it came to being with girls and women, the new Lyarra forced herself to stop visiting the memories of her intimate relationship with Sansa, and looked at other things. As hard as she tried, she could not find a memory of either Lord Eddard or Lady Catelyn confronting her about her intimate relationship with Sansa, nor of Sansa speaking of such an encounter to her. So she wasn’t sure if Sansa’s parents knew about the relationship and did not speak to her or Sansa about it, or if, in fact, they had no knowledge of it. Somehow she doubted the latter was true.  
  
Lyarra also found that even though she had been having intimate relations with Sansa for months now, her visits to the brothel had not stopped. Sansa had made no objections to Lyarra visiting the brothel sometimes when they could not ‘play’ together. In fact, it seemed she had Sansa’s permission to continue doing so.  
  
Lyarra then decided to look back in her memories and see why her relationship -- outside of the intimate part -- with Sansa was so different. Why were they much closer than Jon Snow and Sansa were at this point in time? The answer, when Lyarra found it, shocked her to her core.  
  
For a long time, under Lady Catelyn’s insistence, Lyarra had been a part of the classes that Septa Mordane taught to Sansa, Arya, Jeyne Poole, and other girls in Winterfell. Roughly six years ago, it all changed. One day Septa Mordane got so angry with Lyarra -- apparently over Lyarra performing better at something than the other girls did -- and started ranting at her, calling her bastard among other foul names, and saying she didn’t deserve to be taught how to be a lady, like the trueborn girls and those girls who weren’t bastards. Septa Mordane even said Lyarra would be lucky to find a man who’d want to marry her, and that it was better if she ended up in the brothel in Winter Town instead.  
  
Unfortunately for the Septa, her ranting had been heard by several around the Keep, including the Lord and Lady of Winterfell. Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn had burst into the room, both looking angry, though Catelyn looked more embarrassed than angry. Eddard had forced the Septa from the room, nearly physically dragging her out himself, and, although Lyarra didn’t know how the discussion went, it must have been a very eventful one. Catelyn had comforted all the girls, including Lyarra. At that point in time, while Catelyn’s relationship with Lyarra was far better than that of the past life had been, it wasn’t as close as it could have been. Even so, Catelyn had comforted Lyarra. However, while all the other girls -- especially Sansa and Arya -- had been driven to tears by Septa Mordane’s ranting, Lyarra hadn’t cried. She just looked angry and shocked. She was also a little concerned that Lord and Lady Stark had the same thoughts as Septa Mordane.  
  
The following day, Septa Mordane was gone from Winterfell, having been forced to pack her belongings and had been placed in a carriage and sent off back South. No more Septas had come to replace her. Instead Catelyn had taken over the duties of teaching the girls for a while. Then, over the next three years, other women of the North visited from time to time to teach Lyarra, Sansa, Arya and the other girls the ways of a woman and Lady. Women such as Maege, Dacey and Alysanne Mormont, among others would be temporary but memorable tutors from time to time.  
  
Then, several months ago, a number of Northern daughters and Heiresses of Houses showed up, by request of the Lord and Lady of Winterfell, whether as teachers or companions of the girls. These girls were Wynafryd and Wylla Manderly, Lyra and Jorelle Mormont, Alys Karstark, and Jonelle Umber, the eldest daughter of GreatJon Umber. Apparently deals had been struck between Lord Eddard and the Lords of the girls’ Houses, and Wynafryd, Lyra, and Jonelle were all candidates for an eventual Betrothal to Robb Stark. Then six moons ago, Jonelle left Winterfell, and married Domeric Bolton, the Lord of the Dreadfort.  
  
And wasn’t that a surprise to discover?! Looking back at her memories when it came to the Boltons, she found that, while she didn’t know all the details of the events, Lyarra discovered that Roose Bolton and Ramsay Snow were dead, and had been so for about three years now. One day three years ago, Ramsay had been hunted down and captured by Winterfell soldiers -- on orders of Lord Eddard!  
  
Eddard had then visited the Dreadfort to talk to Roose Bolton about Ramsay’s crimes, and while there, had found evidence that Roose was guilty of crimes of flaying and torturing people. Lord Eddard and the contingency from Winterfell who had traveled with him, including Robb Stark, left the Dreadfort after executing Roose and Ramsay, and naming Domeric as the Lord of the Dreadfort! Lyarra noted that, if she had been Jon Snow, she likely would have gone on the journey with her Uncle and Robb. But she didn’t have such privileges as a girl -- though there were still many privileges she did have -- she was the only girl related to Lord Eddard who had permission to witness the executions of the occasional Night’s Watch deserter, who was captured near Winterfell.  
  
 _The Old God was right when they said the world I would come to had already had great changes,_ Lyarra mused, as she pondered the changes when it came to the Boltons.  
  
Lyarra’s thoughts went back to the dismissal of Septa Mordane and the aftermath of it. She was, once again, shocked at what she discovered. Three days after Septa Mordane’s departure, Lord Eddard had invited Lyarra to a private meeting in his Solar. There, Lord Eddard confessed something he had never admitted to Jon Snow in her past life -- he told Lyarra about her true parentage! He told her that she was his niece, the daughter of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen and that her true name was Visenya Targaryen. Lyarra had, predictably so, been upset with the news and had raced from the room without being excused.  
  
The following day, Lord Eddard had apparently finally confessed to his wife about Lyarra’s parentage. Two days later, when Lyarra had calmed down from the unexpected news, Lord Eddard spoke to her again, informing her that his wife now knew. Lady Catelyn had come into the conversation, and apologized for any past wrongs she had done toward Lyarra, though not much else was said between Lyarra or her Aunt. Then, with Lyarra’s permission, Robb and Sansa were brought into the conversation, and both were told the truth. Arya and Bran were both told a couple years ago, when it was deemed they were old enough to know the truth and keep it a secret. Rickon did not know the truth yet, as he was too young. As far as Lyarra could tell, of those living in Winterfell, only Catelyn and the four eldest Stark children knew the truth. Not even Maester Luwin, Vayon Poole, and Rodrik and Jory Cassel knew the truth, even though they were key members of Lord Eddard’s staff at Winterfell. The only other two people who knew the truth -- which Lord Eddard had informed her of -- was Howland Reed and Lyarra’s other Uncle, Benjen Stark.  
  
After Sansa had learned the truth about Lyarra, she had taken measures to improve her relationship with her cousin. Over the next few years, the two had grown closer as friends, and had a sisterly bond, even though they were cousins. Of course that relationship grew in the past several months and had turned intimate.  
  
 _But it isn’t romantic,_ Lyarra noted, _No, my initial thoughts were wrong -- we are not lovers. At first Lyarra was teaching Sansa, until she had learned all she needed to know. Now we -- Lyarra and Sansa -- are merely exploring the pleasures of sex with each other and helping satisfy one another sexually._ _  
__  
_Lyarra shook herself, and once again sought other memories to think about. This time, it was regarding her swordplay and training. It had been Robb, two days after Lyarra’s eleventh name day, who had introduced her into the art of swordplay and sparring. Robb had been concerned that Lyarra should know how to defend herself. And so, for a month or so, Robb and Lyarra had private sessions training. Then Ser Rodrik found out. He confronted Robb and Lyarra. Robb begged him to include Lyarra in the training. After a discussion with Lord Eddard, who had surprisingly accepted Robb’s request, Ser Rodrik told Lyarra to show up during the morning lessons three days a week. It would take months before Lyarra was good enough to have the same amount of lessons as Robb, Theon and the other boys.  
  
Now, while she wasn’t as strong as the boys, she was faster than most of them, and she could control her stamina better. Her biggest strength in duels, as far as Lyarra could tell, was outlasting her opponents until they got tired. Lyarra’s choice of sword was a bastard sword, which made her very happy, since Longclaw had been a bastard sword. Also, interestingly enough, aside from Theon, she was the best archer out of any of Ser Rodrik’s students, and she was fairly talented using daggers as well.  
  
 _I wonder if the skills from my past life will help me improve my skills in this life,_ Lyarra mused, _I suppose we’ll see during my next lesson._ _  
__  
_Her musings were suddenly interrupted by Sansa shifting next to her. Lyarra turned her head and found Sansa opening her eyes. When Sansa found that Lyarra was awake, she smiled and leaned over and pecked the older girl on the lips. Sansa backed away before Lyarra could react.  
  
 _Oh, Gods,_ Lyarra fretted, _It seems Sansa might want to ‘play’ this morning. What do I do? If I react badly, she might get upset. Especially since she and the old Lyarra had ‘played’ the previous evening. I can’t let her know anything is different about me yet. I would like to tell her about what is going on with me, but I can’t. Not yet. Not until I talk to… well, whoever the Old God said is waiting for me here. So what do I do? Do I…. do I have to play along with her?_ _  
__  
_Lyarra hesitated as she thought of an answer, then sighed. _I suppose I do. I suppose I do need to see how sex with another girl feels like in a girl’s body… and how orgasms feel. I am a girl now, and I will learn about these things sooner or later. Guess it should be sooner._ _  
__  
_“How long have you been awake?” Sansa whispered.  
  
“A few minutes,” Lyarra said.  
  
Sansa pouted. “Given the fact that I feel no arousal yet means you haven’t touched me yet. I thought you were wanting to see how close you could tease me to an orgasm before I awoke?”  
  
Lyarra searched her memories and blushed when she found she had mentioned such a thing the previous evening, moments before she had begun to pleasure Sansa’s pussy with her mouth and fingers.  
  
Lyarra came up with an answer, hoping it was satisfactory. “Well, you were expecting me to do it, right? So it wouldn’t be a surprise. I’m not going to do it until I am sure you’re not expecting it.”  
  
Sansa’s pout turned into a smile. “I guess you’re right. If it happens when I least expect it, maybe I’ll have a better orgasm as a result. Fine… if you’re not going to help me with my release this morning…”  
  
Sansa slid one of her hands up to Lyarra’s right breast, which was nearest the younger girl. Lyarra squeaked when Sansa tweaked the nipple of her breast between her fingers.  
  
“... I’m going to help you instead,” Sansa continued, with a smirk, “Then you can watch me give myself an orgasm, since you don’t seem to want to do it this morning. Am I wrong?”  
  
Lyarra definitely didn’t want to pleasure Sansa this morning. She needed time to get comfortable with the idea of it. So she decided on a suitable response that the old Lyarra might have said -- something that was completely honest from the old Lyarra.  
  
“I like watching you masturbate,” she said, “Your reactions when you cum are more adorable than those of the girls at the brothel. Especially when you do it to yourself. I like seeing you rebel from being that prim and proper Lady that your mother believes you are.”  
  
Sansa blushed, then a moment later, a brief look of fear crossed her face. “Do you think Mother knows about… this? About what we do?”  
  
“I think it would be better that she _does know,_ but doesn’t want to talk to us about it,” Lyarra said, “Because it means she approves enough to a point that she isn’t going to tell us to stop. Because if she doesn’t know…”  
  
“Then there is a chance she’ll find out and make us stop,” Sansa said, nodding. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Lya? Would we stop… if she told us to?”  
  
“We’d have to,” Lyarra said. “Even I know better than to disobey your mother, Sansa.”  
  
Sansa grimaced. “Yeah, you’re right. Maybe it is better if she knows and just doesn’t want to think about it, so she doesn’t bring it up.”  
  
“Now that does sound like your mother,” Lyarra said, with a smirk.  
  
Sansa laughed then proceeded to tweak Lyarra’s nipple again. Then she ducked her head under Lyarra’s blanket. Lyarra stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom, and inhaled and exhaled, unsure what was going to happen next, but knowing she had to be careful not to react badly. As far as Sansa knew, Lyarra was a very eager participant when it came to the younger girl pleasuring her. If she reacted badly, Sansa would probably be quite upset.  
  
Lyarra gasped as she felt a wet sensation against her breast and nipple, and realized it was Sansa’s mouth and tongue. Sansa was kissing, licking and suckling at her breast and nipple. And, wow, did it feel sensitive, and also incredible! If this felt sensitive, Lyarra wondered what would happen when Sansa’s mouth and fingers ventured to that spot between her legs?!  
  
Lyarra’s spine tingled as Sansa’s hand suddenly moved down her body. It seemed she was about to find out the answer to that question. Then, as Lyarra felt the younger girl’s hand reach _that_ spot, suddenly, Sansa groaned and removed her head from under the blanket. She then pushed the blanket away. She looked most disappointed about something.  
  
“It seems our playtime will have to wait for a while,” Sansa said, “Your moonblood has begun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so my first forays into A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones has begun. Technically it is my second, but my first was a huge failure, canceled after two chapters, and I wrote it when I was a newbie when it came to the fandom. So this is my first official ASOIAF/GoT Story. 
> 
> Hope you like it so far. 
> 
> So Roose Bolton and Ramsay Snow have already been dealt with, and Domeric Bolton is alive, Lord of the Dreadfort and a married man -- not a father yet, but perhaps soon enough. My first choice for Domeric’s love interest would have been Sansa, but she is too young yet for marriage, and Domeric needed a wife as soon as possible to continue the Bolton line and produce an heir. So I created Jonelle Umber. While Jonelle Umber is technically an Original Character, she is also meant to be the eldest of GreatJon Umber’s nameless (at the moment) canon daughters.
> 
> So yeah, Septa Mordane is gone from Winterfell and has no place in this story. I hate that bitch!
> 
> Perhaps you’ve already figured out who in Winterfell has already time/dimension traveled like Jon/Lyarra? For those who haven’t guessed it yet, that answer will come in the next chapter (sorta… it will be fully answered in the third chapter)!
> 
> Casting Note: The Old God is voiced by Terence Stamp in my story. Imagine Jor-El from Smallville, and there you go!
> 
> Next Chapter: Lyarra deals with the newest challenge of now being a woman. Then, while having a discussion with Sansa, Lyarra learns of more differences and changes in this new world she is in, compared to her old world and life. Then, she finally leaves her bedroom and reunites with people, familiar and not-so much, who were dead in her past life, including some of those very close to her.


	2. Lyarra II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The way ages are referred to in ASOIAF just confuses me. I don’t know if Lyarra would be referred to in age as six and ten, or ten and six, and whether or not that means it is sixteen or sixty-one! Confusing rubbish, George! So in my story, ages will be referred to in the common way. Sixteen, twenty-one and so on and so forth. Don’t complain! You’re lucky I am referring to months as moons, and menstruation as moonblood in this story!
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Nudity; Fem-Slash (Kissing); Starkcest; Cousin Incest; Menstruation
> 
> Edit: Fixed a couple of Lyarra/Lyanna name mishaps. If it happens again -- which it might -- and I don't see it, please let me know.

_“It seems our playtime will have to wait for a while,” Sansa said, “Your moonblood has begun.”_  
  
Lyarra’s eyes widened as she saw the splotches of blood on the edge of one of Sansa’s fingers. Then she sat up forcefully and looked down at her crotch. For the new Lyarra, it was the first time seeing her own pussy, and it wasn’t exactly the best introduction to it. Her nether lips had shiny, wet red blotches on them. Blood. Or more specifically… moonblood.  
  
Lyarra viewed her memories again, this time back when she had her first moonblood, and was given a lesson by Lady Catelyn, about what such an event meant. She groaned softly as she quickly summarized the details of the lesson.  
  
“Maybe you should put on your gown and leave while I deal with this,” Lyarra said.  
  
“Nonsense, silly,” Sansa said, “This isn’t the first time this has happened while we’ve been in the same bed, after all. I was in your bed the first time my moonblood came a couple moons ago, and you helped me deal with it! I’ve been waiting to return the favor.”  
  
Lyarra blinked. Sansa had already had her first moonblood? She distinctly remembered in the past life, when Sansa had recalled her so-called ‘adventures’ over the years they had been separated, that Sansa explained her first moonblood hadn’t come until she was in King’s Landing, which had to be several moons from now originally! Why had that changed? Was it due to Sansa’s sexual explorations with Lyarra? Had such events made it happen sooner?  
  
“I’ll go get Byrna,” Sansa said, “Of our maids, she is the one who knows that I sometimes sleep in here when I have nightmares. Of course, she doesn’t know what we do, she just thinks you comfort me when I have bad dreams. I’ll tell her, and she can bring in a bathtub and change the sheets while you bathe. Okay?”  
  
“Alright,” Lyarra said, “Thanks, Sansa.”  
  
Then, feeling bold, Lyarra kissed Sansa on the cheek.  
  
Sansa blushed and smiled. “It is nothing, Lya. You’d do the same for me. You have done so, after all.”  
  
Sansa pecked Lyarra on the lips again, then rolled off the bed, and put on her panties, sleeping gown, and slippers, then left the room.  
  
 _Just my luck,_ Lyarra snorted, _My first day as a girl, and I have to deal with moonblood. I think I’d rather deal with Sansa pleasuring me instead. Rather feel pleasure, then what will apparently, according to the memories, be a few days of discomfort -- and this happens a few days every moon, unless I’m with child? The Old Gods are laughing at me, I’m sure._

Lyarra revisited her memories of that conversation with Lady Catelyn after she experienced her first moonblood, to see about what she could do now, before taking a bath. She found the answer, then found in her memories what she needed. She pushed away the rest of her blankets, and grimaced when she saw red blotches on the insides of her hips, and from the damp feeling, she realized there was probably blood on the back of her hips and her bum as well. She gingerly stood up from the bed, then spun around and turned up her nose in disgust at the small pool of blood on the bed.  
  
 _Ugh, why does moonblood have to be so messy?!_ Lyarra groaned mentally. _It is a good thing I don’t grow ill at the sight of blood… even my own!_

She turned away from the sight of blood and walked over to the dresser across the room. The top drawer had, in addition to her smallclothes, some washcloths that were used in times like this. She also recognized the thick pieces of cloth that the memory-conversation with Lady Catelyn told her she would put in her panties during her moonblood, which would soak up any excess blood that came during her cycle, so she wouldn’t ruin her smallclothes. Keeping such things in mind for when she got dressed, Lyarra took one of the washcloths and closed the drawer.  
  
She then walked over to a washbasin -- meant for washing her hands and face -- which was half-filled with water, and stuck the washcloth in the water. She sighed in relief at the lukewarm temperature of the water, thankful it wasn’t cold. She wrung out the cloth, then inhaled and exhaled and stuck her hand and washcloth in between her legs. She winced at the mixed sensation of a little bit of pleasure -- from the contact of the washcloth with her pussy -- and discomfort -- obviously from the blood and side-effects of what she was going through.  
  
“Miss Lyarra, I’ve come with the bathtub -- ohh!” a voice said, in surprise, “I am sorry for coming in during such a private moment.”  
  
Lyarra realized this was Byrna, the maid Sansa mentioned.  
  
“It is fine, Byrna,” Lyarra muttered, “I’m just cleaning in between my legs a bit before I take my bath. Just prepare the bath, and take care of the sheets, please.”  
  
“Yes, my lady,” Byrna said. “I will take that washcloth when you’re done with it as well. Just put it in my basket. I will empty that washbasin as well and refill it later. I don’t think you want to use it again, now that you’re using it to clean yourself of that mess.”  
  
“Probably not,” Lyarra agreed.  
  
Lyarra then noted that Byrna hadn’t asked if she had any messy clothes, and wondered if the maid somehow knew she had slept naked. Maybe she had assumed so, since there was a mess on the bed sheets? Maybe it simply wasn’t in the maid’s nature to ask questions like that.  
  
Vanishing these thoughts, Lyarra focused on the embarrassing task of cleaning the visible blood from her pussy, bum and hips. When she finished, she turned and found Byrna pouring buckets of steaming hot water into a copper tub. Bottles of hair and body lotions were sitting on a chair near the tub already, along with a towel and washcloth. Byrna, Lyarra noted, was probably around or near Lord and Lady Stark’s age. Lyarra tried to remember the woman from her past life, but came up with nothing.  
  
It was possible the woman was also there during this time in her past life, but maids had rarely visited or cleaned Jon Snow’s room in his presence. In the recent years before Jon had joined the Night’s Watch, he usually had to do a maid’s work in his bedroom, like having to fill his own baths, so it had been a while since she could remember Jon ever having a maid. Sometimes, Jon had to take dirty sheets and clothes to the laundry staff himself. He never had to wash his own clothes or sheets, though. Half the time a faceless, nameless maid -- or rather, faceless and nameless to him -- would deliver his clothes, but much of the time he had to pick up the load of his clothes himself. So, to Jon Snow, maids had been practically invisible to him, because it seemed that, to them, he was the same.  
  
Lyarra threw the blood-soaked washcloth in the maid’s basket, and stood there, in the nude -- not that Byrna seemed to mind her nakedness, which told her it wasn’t uncommon for the maid to see her in the nude -- while Byrna finished filling the bath, before gathering up the dirty sheets off the bed, and putting them into the basket.  
  
“I suggest you wait a few minutes for the water to cool a bit, my lady,” Byrna said, after she emptied the washbasin into one of her buckets. “It is rather very hot at the moment. I’ll come back later and collect the tub and replace your sheets, and the water in the washbasin. Goodbye, my lady.”  
  
“Bye,” Lyarra muttered.  
  
 _She calls me ‘my lady’, even though she believes me a bastard,_ Lyarra noted, _Is it because she believes I am Lord Stark’s daughter? Hmm… or did Sansa ask the maid to refer me as such? Hmm…_ _  
_ _  
_Lyarra walked over to the bathtub, and dipped her hand into it, testing the temperature. It didn’t feel as hot as she expected it to be.  
  
 _I wonder,_ Lyarra mused, as a thought crossed her mind, _Dany…. Daenerys… she once said that steaming hot baths never bothered her, probably because she was -- as she referred to it as -- Unburnt. Could that mean I am immune to fire or burning, and immune to the hottest temperatures of water? Jon Snow wasn’t immune, and neither was Viserys, according to Daenerys. Maybe such a talent is only known in Targaryen women these days?_ _  
_ _  
_Deciding to think about that later, Lyarra grabbed the washcloth from the chair, threw it in the bath water, then stepped into the bath, and sat down in the water. The water felt very comfortable, and though she felt the heat of the water, again it wasn’t as hot as she thought it would be. One of the first things she noted was that the hot water felt amazing around her crotch and hips, which were aching, obviously a side-effect of her moonblood. She felt instant relief around that area, no longer feeling the discomfort she felt when she had cleaned the blood with the washcloth.  
  
She laid against the inner back wall of the tub, and was amused to find that her body fit quite well in the tub. It was then she realized she was a few, if not several, inches shorter than Jon Snow had been. She would have to compare her height to Robb, whom she was the most familiar with when it came to similar heights. Jon Snow had been a couple inches shorter than Robb. How much shorter compared to him would she be now? She knew women were usually shorter than men, though Brienne of Tarth was taller than a number of men Jon Snow had met in his life. But she was no Brienne. As long as she wasn’t too much shorter than she was in her previous life, she could probably compensate for the difference.  
  
The next thing she noted was part of her breasts, including her nipples, floated above the surface of the water, even as the rest of her, aside from her head, was submerged. For the first time, as she focused looking at her breasts, she realized just how big they were. Not wanting to think about Daenerys anymore, she thought about another lover in her past life, that she could compare her body to: the fiery, fierce, and attractive Ygritte. She had bigger breasts, though not much bigger, than Ygritte had. Nothing to scoff at anyway. Though, she figured she was still in her growing years, so perhaps they weren’t as big as they would be when they finally stopped growing?  
  
 _Ygritte,_ Lyarra mused with a sigh, _Will I meet her again by some chance this time, even though I cannot join the Night’s Watch? As I intend to still have a part in defeating the Night King and stopping the Long Night, I’ll likely still end up at the Wall at some point -- maybe even north of the Wall. I suppose there is a slim chance I could see her again. Not that she would know who I am. Probably wouldn’t even care anyway. If I can reunite with her, this time I’ll make sure she lives longer than she did last time. Old Gods damn Olly, and he better hope I never cross his path in this life! Him and Thorne!_ _  
_ _  
_Lyarra sighed and forced her thoughts away from Ygritte and traitors. Her thoughts moved to one simple truth: she needed to focus on the fact that she was now living a life as a woman.  
  
 _And quite obviously a ‘woman grown and flowered’_ _as the saying usually goes,_ Lyarra mused, _Gods, how is being a woman -- and, to most people, a bastard woman at that! -- going to help me convince others that the most important war of our time comes from the North, not the South? Jon Snow might have been a bastard, but he was a man. He was able to be Lord Commander, a leader, a King of the North… people were ready and willing to listen to him. But me? Men will rather want to fuck me, instead of listen to a single word I have to say!_ _  
_ _  
_Lyarra snorted and laughed at the thought. She had yet to look in a mirror yet, so she didn’t exactly have an idea about her looks. But she was the daughter of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen, who, as far as she knew, were two very attractive people.  
  
 _I don’t mean to brag,_ Lyarra mused, _But there is no way I am anything but an attractive girl who men will look at with a lusty gaze, rather than someone they should listen to. I suppose I’ll have to prove I’m more than just a pretty face… which I could probably do with a sword. Hmm... now that sounds like a good idea. Something to think about._ _  
_ _  
_Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted as her bedroom door opened again. She squeaked -- and was embarrassed at such a noise coming from her! -- and lamely attempted to cover her breasts, the only visible part of her aside from her head. Then she saw Sansa walk into the room, and shut the door. She sighed in relief and moved her hands away from her body.  
  
“You don’t need to cover yourself up for me, Lya,” Sansa said, with a soft smile.  
  
“You barged into the room without announcing yourself,” Lyarra admonished her, “It could have been Robb for all I know!”  
  
Sansa laughed. “Robb would announce himself, and ask for your permission to come in, as would most of those who live or work in the Keep.”  
  
“But not you,” Lyarra said, pointedly.  
  
Sansa pouted playfully. “Do I have to announce myself to you in your bedroom? After all we have been up to in here together?”  
  
 _If you knew who I used to be, Sansa, you wouldn’t be discussing such things so openly with me,_ Lyarra sighed, then shook herself mentally, _Lyarra. You are Lyarra now. Be the Lyarra Sansa knows. Until you can tell her otherwise -- which is definitely not right now! -- you need to be her Lyarra!_  
  
“I suppose not,” Lyarra said, smiling, “Are you just in here to watch me bathe?”  
  
“No,” Sansa said, “I found Mother, and told her about your… condition. She said she’ll let Ser Rodrik know that your training is to be put on hold for a couple days or so until your cycle is done.”  
  
Lyarra was the one to pout this time. She really wanted to see if her skills had been brought over from her previous life.  
  
“Don’t look so down, Lya,” Sansa said, “We’ll find other things to do during the free time you now have.”  
  
“I hope you mean things that don’t take place in this room,” Lyarra said, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Sansa blushed. “Lya! You make it sound like I’m obsessed with what takes place in here.”  
  
“Are you?” Lyarra asked.  
  
“I would be in here _every_ night if I was that obsessed,” Sansa said. “You wouldn’t have any opportunities to go down to the brothel then.”  
  
Lyarra smiled. “I suppose that is true.”  
  
“No, what I meant,” Sansa said, “is that we can finally begin working on our dresses we’ll be wearing for the feast when our guests arrive in a few weeks.”  
  
Lyarra froze. _Guests? Is King Robert already coming to Winterfell? Is Jon Arryn dead? Have events already started?_ _  
_ _  
_“Guests?” Lyarra echoed, then winced -- she could have looked up whatever Sansa was referring to in her memories.  
  
“Your moonblood’s arrival has made you forgetful, Lya,” Sansa said, giggling, causing Lyarra to blush at her mistake. “Father let us know about it a couple days ago, remember? Some of the members of Houses Tyrell and Martell are coming North. They’ll be here for about a moon, and then they’re venturing to Castle Black and the Wall for a visit. Apparently they’re curious about what is going on up there.”  
  
Lyarra’s eyes widened. That definitely hadn’t happened in her past life. This was another change. The Old God had said that what was happening at the Wall and Castle Black was different than her old past, but just how different was it if members of House Martell were willing to venture all the way from Dorne -- completely across Westeros! -- to visit the Wall and learn about the happenings there themselves?  
  
Sansa then giggled again. “Of course, if you want my opinion, I think they’re coming here for another reason as well. After all, Victor Tyrell and Doryn Sand are part of the party making their way here.”  
  
Lyarra raised an eyebrow at the unfamiliar names, and searched her memories for them. She was, once again, shocked by what she found. While the old Lyarra had never met the two young men, she had learned who they were. Victor Tyrell was Lord Mace Tyrell’s youngest son, and was also the twin of Margaery Tyrell. Doryn Sand was Oberyn Martell’s only son, and was the twin of Sarella Sand, Prince Oberyn’s fourth eldest daughter. Both were seventeen years old. Neither had existed in her past life, and both were the twin brothers of girls who had existed in her past life.  
  
“What do you mean?” Lyarra asked.  
  
“Isn’t it obvious?” Sansa replied, “They’re candidates, Lya.”  
  
“Candidates?” Lyarra echoed.  
  
“Suitors,” Sansa said, grinning, “For your hand in marriage.”  
  
Lyarra’s jaw dropped. “M-my hand? M-marriage?!”  
  
“Well, they are around the same age as you,” Sansa said. “And you are at that age where suitors would be interested in marrying you. I am sure you are on a number of lists when it comes to young men looking for a possible wife.”  
  
“But they think I’m a bastard,” Lyarra said. “No… no, I think they’re candidates for _your_ hand. They’re not too old to not be considered candidates for you, even if you don’t marry one of them until you’re my age.”  
  
 _After all, Joffrey is my age, and he wasn’t considered too old for her hand,_ Lyarra mused, shuddering at the reminder of that vile monster, and the fact that the boy was currently alive.  
  
“Doryn Sand is a bastard,” Sansa reminded Lyarra. “He wouldn’t be my candidate, his cousins -- Prince Doran’s sons -- would be, but they’re not coming here. So perhaps Doryn is your candidate and…” She blushed. “And perhaps Victor is mine.”  
  
Marriage? She was still getting used to being Lyarra Snow, and now the thought of marriage -- or at least Betrothals -- was already a possibility! First, moonblood, now this?! And the candidates were two boys she had no clue existed until now?!  
  
“B-but,” Lyarra stammered, “What if I do marry Doryn, and the Martells find out my true identity? They would rather want me to marry one of Prince Doran’s sons instead.”  
  
Sansa shrugged. “Perhaps you should ask Father if it is in his intentions to discuss betrothals between either Doryn or Victor and you, and then discuss your concerns with him.”  
  
Lyarra nodded. “Yes, that sounds like a good idea to me.”  
  
“So, anyway,” Sansa said, “About those dresses?”  
  
Lyarra did her best not to wince. In her past life, she had no experience with making clothes, and the only sewing she had ever done was with fixing wounds! She hoped she had the old Lyarra’s ‘muscle memories’ and skill when it came to such things.  
  
“Er… sure, I suppose that sounds good,” Lyarra said, “When should we start?”  
  
“After breakfast,” Sansa said, “We can discuss and draw out what we’d like the dresses to look like. With any luck, we’ll be able to start the sewing part before we have to do our other tasks for the day. For now, I want this to just be something between the two of us, and not something we do while in the sewing circle, or in our lessons.”  
  
“Alright,” Lyarra said, nodding, “Sounds good to me.”  
  
“Great!” Sansa said, grinning. “Well, I better go and let you get washed. I need to take a bath myself. Byrna probably has my bath ready for me.”  
  
“Alright,” Lyarra said, “See you at breakfast.”  
  
Sansa smiled and stood up, then left the room. Lyarra sighed and relaxed back against the edge of the tub and stared at the ceiling. She was still trying to cope with the revelations she had just discovered. Not just the idea of being involved in betrothals and marriage, but the idea of Doryn Sand and Victor Tyrell, two people who had not existed in her past life. If they existed, how many more like them were there? Especially when it came to those sons or daughters in highborn houses. This was another change the old God had referred to -- and it was a strange one.  
  
Deciding to think on these mysteries and curiosities later, she decided it was time to start washing herself. She hoped washing her female body wasn’t too much different to washing her male body in her past life. There were a couple big differences between her current body and her previous one after all. And also her hair was longer than it had ever gotten in her previous life.  
  
Lyarra sighed and got to work bathing herself.  
  


* * *

  
  
A little over half-an-hour later, Lyarra Snow was sitting in a chair at the vanity table in her bedroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror on the backside of the table, taking in her appearance for the very first time. Like Jon Snow, anyone who looked at Lyarra saw her Stark features, and recognized none of the Targaryen features. The only female Targaryen Lyarra had known was Daenerys, and Lyarra could not find any similar features to the Mother of Dragons in herself.  
  
 _It would appear,_ Lyarra mused, _that Uncle Ned was just as lucky when it came to my Stark appearance as he was for Jon Snow’s appearance. However… unlike Jon, I think I might resemble Mother more._  
  
In fact, as she looked at her heart-shaped face, she wondered just how similar she looked to her mother, Lyanna. Her eyes were grey, and were similar to her past life, though they seemed softer -- probably due to the fact that she was a girl.  
  
Her hair was dark brown, just a few shades lighter than black, and reminded her of Arya’s hair color. It was currently draped around her shoulders and reached down just above her back. Lyarra grimaced at the thought that she would need to style it in some way before she left her bedroom. She only hoped her memories of her past hairstyles, and how to accomplish them by herself, would guide her.  
  
 _Perhaps it would be better just to trim a few inches off,_ Lyarra mused as she stared at her hair, _It would be more manageable. I wonder how Sansa and the others would react? Would they approve?_  
  
Since it appeared she would be inside for much, if not all of the day, Lyarra had chosen to wear lighter clothing, and had chosen a casual warm blue skirt, with embroidery detail. She had remembered to put the necessary cloth inside her panties to help soak up any excess moonblood and prevent a mess. She also wore a feminine style of light brown boots she had seen Arya and Sansa wear over the years in her past life.  
  
Lyarra sighed and searched her memories for her more common hairstyles, and found an easy, casual style she could pull off. Over the next few minutes, she tucked, prodded, combed and brushed her hair around her head to a style she hoped was passable. When she looked at the final results, she snorted and decided that in the future -- whether or not she had a haircut -- if she had to go with any of the more difficult hairstyles, she was going to have to recruit either Sansa, Lady Catelyn, or one of the young Northern ladies currently residing at Winterfell, to help her.  
  
Satisfied with her hair, she stood up and looked at her reflection in the mirror again. Deciding she looked good enough for a simple day in the keep, she turned and walked out of the room. Almost immediately, she froze as she looked around the corridor outside her room. It had been a long time since she had seen Winterfell, and the keep itself, in its own marvelous glory. The last time she had been here, even before the final battle with the Night King, the keep and Winterfell still had evidence of the damage from when the Greyjoys and Boltons attacked and lived in Winterfell.  
  
But here and now… this, this was the Winterfell of her youth in her original life.   
  
Blinking back a tear from the emotions she felt, Lyarra started off down the corridor and headed for the direction of the Great Hall. Even then, she had to steady herself and her emotions as she continued her short journey. She couldn’t get over how good it felt to be _home._ Being home before, whether it was after taking Winterfell back from the Boltons, or coming back with Daenerys and her army, there was always something missing to Jon Snow. Now, being here, Lyarra knew what had been missing.  
  
 _No, not what,_ Lyarra gasped, her heart swelling as she turned toward a stairway, and saw the back of Bran Stark, who was running -- _running!_ \-- down the last two stairs, before he disappeared off in the direction of the Great Hall, _Who. My family. My family is here. Alive and whole and_ here _!_

She felt a few tears streaming down her cheeks, and wiped them away.  
  
 _Stupid side-effect of moonblood,_ Lyarra muttered to herself, then laughed softly, _That is what Arya said the one time Jon Snow caught her with tears in her eyes. Blamed them on the side-effects of her moonblood. Then she blushed angrily, slapped him on the chest, and told him to forget that she ever mentioned the word ‘moonblood’ to him! No, Arya, not this time. Not for me. These tears are emotional tears… and they are well earned, I think._

Lyarra cleared her throat, centering herself and calming herself down as she made her way down the stairway she had just seen Bran leave from.  
  
 _Alright, Lya,_ Lyarra mused, _Calm down. Can’t let the family see you getting weepy at breakfast. Robb -- Gods, Robb, it will be so good to see you again -- he’ll ask unwanted questions, Arya would call you ‘stupid’, and Theon would certainly make fun of you if he saw you being weepy. He’s probably already going to have some japes ready at the fact that I have been excused from training because of my ‘condition’. Joy… that will be fun to deal with. Gods I hope I am not one of the girls Theon likes to flirt with. I don’t know how I’d deal with that!_

When she finally stepped into the Great Hall, Lyarra almost tripped at the sight in front of her. The Hall was relatively full with residents and staff members having breakfast, before they would begin their day. It had been years - _years! -_ since she had seen the Hall this full just for a simple casual breakfast! During those last moons in Winterfell in her old life, everyone was always too busy doing something to just waste time for a casual breakfast together in the Great Hall. But this, here and now, this was just routine during the days of her childhood, something she had forgotten about in the recent months in her past life.  
  
Her gaze finally moved toward the main table at the back of the room. She inhaled softly, as she saw several members of her family -- along with several others -- sitting at the table.  
  
Lady Catelyn was talking to little Rickon, trying to get him to eat his food instead of play with it. Lyarra swallowed at the thought of the last time she had seen Rickon -- his body, dead from an arrow from the bastard Ramsay Snow, being placed in the Crypts. Somehow Rickon looked smaller in death than he does now alive and young. In that instance, Lyarra vowed to herself that, if she had it in her power, Rickon would never again be placed in a position like the one that ended his last life.  
  
A little further down the table, there was Bran, sitting up with his own strength, instead of in a wheelchair, looking happy and responsive and nothing like the Three-Eyed Raven. He was currently eating and eavesdropping on something Robb and Theon Greyjoy were talking about.  
  


Robb -- the handsome Heir of Winterfell, looking much like he did the last time Lyarra remembered seeing him in her past life -- was laughing at whatever Theon had said -- a jape obviously, knowing the Kraken, and likely a rude one at that that probably shouldn’t have been heard by young Bran. Even so, it was kinda nice to see the old Theon before his father and Ramsay Snow had poisoned his mind, body and soul. Lyarra took comfort in the fact knowing this Theon would never have to deal with Ramsay Snow again.  
  
 _Looking back at the memory,_ Lyarra mused, as she gazed at the back of the head of Theon Greyjoy, _it would seem he did join Uncle Eddard and Robb on the journey to Dreadfort. So he was likely a witness to Ramsay Snow and Roose Bolton’s executions. In a way, it was a nice bit of justice for his counterpart, though he wouldn’t know that._  
  
Sansa was sitting at the opposite end of the table, surrounded by Jeyne Poole and several young ladies, whom Lyarra realized were the northern daughters who had come to Winterfell to be teachers and companions for the girls.   
  
The only two that were missing were Arya -- obviously either sleeping in, or running around and making mischief before breakfast -- and Lord Eddard, who was probably busy in his solar. The fact that Lyarra did not see Maester Luwin or the steward, Vayon Poole, in the Hall seemed to back up such a theory. Those two usually sat with Ser Rodrik and Jory Cassel, both of whom were seated and eating breakfast with some of Winterfell’s personal guards.  
  
Lyarra saw Sansa waving her over, and she smiled and headed toward the main table. As she neared the table, Lady Catelyn looked up at her.  
  
“Good morning, Lyarra,” the Lady of Winterfell said, “Feeling better?”  
  
 _Lady Catelyn treating me nicely,_ Lyarra mused, _This might just be the strangest change I’ve seen yet._ _  
_ _  
_“Yes, my Lady,” Lyarra said, with a soft smile, as she approached the Lady of Winterfell; in private Lady Catelyn sometimes preferred Lyarra refer to her as ‘Aunt Catelyn’, but since there were those who didn’t know about the secret in the room, formal address was necessary, “Thank you for asking Ser Rodrik to excuse me from lessons for a few days.”  
  
“It was only the proper thing to do given your condition,” Catelyn said, with a low tone, so as not to be eavesdropped by anyone nearby. “I am sure you can find other things to do, instead of sparring, until you’re feeling better.”  
  
“Yes, my Lady,” Lyarra said.  
  
“Go on and eat now,” Catelyn said.  
  
Feeling bold, Lyarra tried a light curtsy, before moving down the table.  
  
“What’s this I hear about you skipping training for a few days, Snow?” Theon said, as Lyarra neared the spot he was sitting, “Feeling ill?”  
  
“Perhaps you’re right, Greyjoy,” Lyarra said, “However, when I am feeling better, I’ll spar with you and see if my illness has allowed you any advantages during the lessons I miss. Somehow I doubt it.”  
  
Theon glared at her, while Bran snickered, and Robb grinned at her. Lyarra winked at the Stark Heir and continued walking toward where Sansa and the other girls were seated. Sansa had apparently saved her a seat next to her, so Lyarra took it, and sat down on Sansa’s right. To her left, Lyarra recognized who the girl was sitting next to her, by her signature green-dyed hair. This was Wylla Manderly, one of Lord Manderly’s granddaughters. Across the table were Wylla’s sister, Wynafryd, Jorelle and Lyra Mormont, and Alys Karstark. Jeyne Poole was seated on Sansa’s other side.   
  
“So, Lyarra,” Wylla said, “Sansa was just telling us something interesting. She believes Victor Tyrell, and the only son of Prince Oberyn Martell, could be candidates for suitors for you.”  
  
Lyarra glanced over at Sansa, who smiled at her innocently. The older girl rolled her eyes, and shrugged as she started piling a bit of food on her plate.  
  
“Only theories for now,” Lyarra said, deciding it was a suitable response, “Nothing set in stone.”  
  
“Yes, well, if one of those two young men does succeed,” Jorelle said, “I know someone who would be quite upset at the idea of another young man claiming you instead.”  
  
“Who?” Lyarra asked, looking at the elder Mormont girl.  
  
 _Please don’t say Theon,_ Lyarra fretted, _I would probably faint if you named him. I can’t even fathom the idea of him being attracted to me!_  
  
“My twin brother, Toren,” Jorelle said, grinning, “He fancies you… has for a while now.”  
  
Lyarra stared at Jorelle, in confusion. Lady Maege Mormont had a son? Since when? Lyarra searched her memories. Indeed… Toren Mormont, Jorelle’s twin. She nearly blushed at the memory of the young man dancing with her, during some type of feast there in the Great Hall. The scene was obviously from a few years prior. Both her and the boy seemed around thirteen years of age, if she was correct. Even at thirteen, Toren had already proven that he would be tall in stature like the other Mormonts of Bear Island. He towered over Lyarra, so it was a rather awkward dance. Though it was just a memory she was glancing at, Lyarra could recognize the obvious expression on the young Mormont boy’s face that revealed his growing attraction toward her.  
  
 _Another twin brother of a girl who existed in my past life, just like Victor Tyrell and Doryn Sand,_ Lyarra wondered, _This is passing strange._ _  
_ _  
_Then another thought occurred to her. _Hmm… Toren… a strange name. However, it is rather similar to… oh, my, is this the evidence that finally points to the father of at least one -- two -- of the Mormont children? Is Maege’s only son named for his father?_ _  
_ _  
_“I must wonder,” Lyarra said, “What would your twin brother say if you were revealing, what I am sure is one of his deepest secrets, to the girl he apparently fancies?  
  
Jorelle blushed red in embarrassment, and her sister Lyra snorted.  
  
“Promise not to tell him?” Jorelle asked.  
  
“If she doesn’t, I will!” Lyra said, grinning.  
  
Jorelle glared at her sister, causing snickers from the other girls around them. Lyarra took pity on the older Mormont girl, and decided to respond with something the old Lyarra might have said.  
  
“If I do get married, and it isn’t to your brother,” Lyarra said, “Tell him that I’ll save a dance for him at my wedding. But not until an announcement of my betrothal or impending wedding comes, whenever that will be.”  
  
“I am sure he’ll appreciate that,” Jorelle said. “I’ll let him know, but only after that blessed day arrives. Thank you.”  
  
Lyarra smiled. Then, she was distracted by the sight of Arya arriving in the Great Hall, followed closely by Lord Eddard Stark. Lyarra smirked, wondering if Arya was running about the keep, until her father found her and made her go to breakfast. She watched as Arya walked sluggishly toward the table -- obviously, she had gotten in some kind of trouble by her father -- and sat down next to Bran.  
  
Taking a quick gaze of her memories of Arya, she was happy to see that herself and Arya still had that close bond that Jon Snow and Arya had in her past life. Not as close as Lyarra was with Sansa, perhaps -- definitely not in the intimate sense! -- but it was still a close bond. Lyarra smiled privately at the memory of the aftermath of Arya finding out the truth of Lyarra’s parentage. Arya had demanded that Lyarra was still like a sister to her, and always would be.  
  
 _Nice to know that some things will never change,_ Lyarra mused, happily.  
  
Then Lyarra turned away from Arya, and smiled as she looked upon her Uncle, the man she had thought of as a father for so long. As she gazed on Lord Eddard’s face, she noticed that the man looked rather uncharacteristically nervous about something. Perhaps he got bad news in his Solar?  
  
Then her Uncle’s gaze turned straight to her. Was it her imagination, or did her Uncle have tears in his eyes as he looked at her?  
  
 _Is he seeing my mother instead of me?_ Lyarra wondered, _Maybe it is the hairstyle I chose. Was it one of her more common styles? I guess I was right when I thought I looked like my mother then._ _  
_ _  
_Lyarra watched as her Uncle walked toward the main table. However, instead of sitting down at his usual spot at the end of the table near his wife, he walked past Lady Catelyn and toward Lyarra’s direction. When Lord Eddard arrived, Lyarra looked up at him.  
  
“Good morning girls,” Lord Eddard said, politely; after receiving a collective greeting from the girls, he looked at Lyarra, “Lyarra, would you please join me in my Solar after breakfast? I wish to have a private discussion, just between you and I.”  
  
Lyarra swallowed, though there was nothing in her mouth but saliva. “Yes, sir.”  
  
“Thank you,” Eddard said, then turned without another word.  
  
Lyarra stared at her Uncle’s retreating figure as he walked back to his normal place at the table and sat down. What could her Uncle want to speak to her about?  
  
“Wonder what Father wants to talk to you about, Lya,” Sansa said. _  
_ _  
_ _Good question,_ Lyarra mused.  
  
“Ooh, maybe your theories are more correct than you think, Sansa!” Wylla said, “Maybe Lord Stark wants to talk to Lya about Victor Tyrell or Doryn Sand?”  
  
“If that is true,” Wynafryd replied to her sister, “why wouldn’t he have discussed such a thing with Lya, after he made the announcement a couple days ago that the Tyrells and Martells would be coming here soon? Wouldn’t he have talked to her about it as soon as he possibly could?”  
  
“Maybe he’s still in talks?” Wylla asked.  
  
Jorelle shook her head. “Any decisions wouldn’t be finalized until Lord Tyrell and Prince Oberyn arrived. These types of talks are usually taken care of face-to-face, not with letters and ravens. It would be too early for Lord Stark to tell Lya about such things. Nay, this is about something else.”  
  
“I suppose I’ll see what it is after breakfast,” Lyarra commented.  
  
Sounds of agreement were heard amongst the girls, and conversation thankfully moved to other topics. Lyarra mainly listened as she continued to eat her breakfast.  
  
Every now and then, as she ate, Lyarra thought she noticed her Uncle look at her from time to time. At first, she thought he was simply gazing around at those seated at the table. Then when she looked at him, and his eyes caught hers, she knew that he was looking more at her than anyone else at her end of the table. That made Lyarra wonder once again… what could her Uncle want to talk to her about?  
  
Then, when she was more than halfway done with her plate of breakfast, a sudden thought crossed her mind.  
  
 _What was it the Old God said about someone who had also traveled like me, that they would be waiting for me at Winterfell?_ Lyarra asked herself.  
  
Lyarra thought back to what the Old Gold had told her:  
  
“There is already one who came back, and is currently in Winterfell. They are partially, if not fully, responsible for many of the changes that will be unfamiliar to you in that world. They have already been forewarned of your possible arrival as well.”  
  
 _Could…_ _could it possibly be Uncle Eddard?_ Lyarra wondered, _Of course! Roose Bolton and Ramsay Snow’s arrest and execution! As far as old Lyarra’s memories tell me, Uncle Eddard was the one who instigated that investigation, and ordered the Winterfell soldiers to hunt down Ramsay Snow. There are also the apparent changes at the Wall, and with the Night’s Watch. If anyone could jumpstart such a change like that, it would be Lord Eddard Stark, who even the roughest members of the Night’s Watch still greatly respect! Is that why he wishes to speak to me? Does he know who I really am?_ _  
_ _  
_It would explain why he was looking so nervous, when Lyarra first saw him. And why he looked rather emotional when he saw her. He might have realized who she really was… or rather who she _had been_. _They have already been forewarned of your possible arrival,_ the Old God had said.  
  
 _Well then,_ Lyarra mused, _It seems I’m about to have a very interesting conversation with Uncle Eddard._ _  
_ _  
_Fifteen minutes later -- what seemed an eternity to Lyarra, given that she had finished breakfast a few minutes prior, and was waiting for Lord Eddard to finish -- she saw her Uncle stand up and look in her direction.  
  
“Time for that meeting with Lord Stark,” Lyarra said.  
  
“Good luck, Lya,” Sansa said. “Find me when you’re done.”  
  
Lyarra nodded.  
  
“You must tell us immediately if it is about Victor Tyrell or Doryn Sand, Lya!” Wylla said.  
  
Lyarra merely smiled at Wylla, and muttered a temporary farewell to Sansa and the other girls, as she stood up. She walked toward Uncle Eddard and, when he turned and started off out of the Great Hall, followed behind him. As she continued on the trek toward the Lord’s Solar, Lyarra couldn’t help but compare her current height to the Lord of Winterfell. In her past life, Jon Snow was roughly the same height as Eddard Stark. Now, Lyarra roughly came up to Eddard’s shoulders. She also knew Robb was taller than his father, which meant he could probably rest his chin on her head if he hugged her. That would be kind of embarrassing!  
  
 _Hmm, I am kind of short but not as bad as I feared,_ Lyarra mused. _I can manage and compensate for my height when it comes to sparring and sword fighting._ _  
_ _  
_Finally, they reached the Lord’s Solar. When Uncle Eddard gestured to the chair on the nearest side of his large desk, Lyarra swallowed her nerves, and sat down in the seat. Lyarra watched her Uncle as he rounded the desk and sat down in his chair. He stared at her for several moments, before relaxing in his chair and clearing his throat.  
  
“Tell me true, Lyarra,” Eddard said, “What do you know about the name Jon Snow?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger! Though I suppose I lessened the harshness of the cliffhanger with Lyarra’s suspicions of who was the Traveler in Winterfell she was told about from the Old God. I hadn’t originally intended to do that. I originally wanted it to be a complete shock to Lyarra, but Eddard’s behavior toward her in the Great Hall was too suspicious not to make her think of the possibility of him being the Traveler. 
> 
> So here we have some more evidence of big changes in this version of Westeros. First there is Sansa already having had her first moonblood. Then there is the reveal of Doryn Sand, Victor Tyrell, and Toren Mormont, all of whom are twin brothers of canon female characters. Will there be more like them in the future of the story? Probably. Do I know who they are? Not yet… the mentioned three were the ones I had thought about before I had even started writing the story. Doryn Sand is named for Doran Martell. Victor Tyrell is named for one of Mace’s cousins who was a brave warrior, and Toren… is named after Tormund Giantsbane who -- at least in this story! -- is the father of Maege Mormont’s children. Doryn and Victor are 17 and Toren is 16. 
> 
> Right now, my ideas when it comes to romance is this: Doryn Sand will be Lyarra’s main love interest, though she’ll have several others -- mostly women, and perhaps a handful of men, though most of these love interests might just be short flings or one-night stands. Why Doryn? Because he is like his father. He doesn’t care if Lyarra has a polyamorous relationship, though Lyarra would make sure that Doryn would be the only father of her children. Doryn’s personality in this regard is perfect for my plans. The main reason I am having Lyarra paired with an original character is because I can’t think of a good canon character that would be suitable for her. Also, there are other important reasons, which will be discussed in two chapters. During said discussion, you’ll also find out why Lyarra is agreeable when it comes to getting married -- most of it has to do with tactical and strategic reasons for the future of Lyarra’s personal missions.
> 
> I haven’t decided yet whether Sansa will be with Victor Tyrell, or Willas Tyrell. But it will be with one of them. If it is Victor, which is where I am leaning to right now, then since he is the fourth son of the Tyrells, he and Sansa will start a new House in the North -- Tystark, or Tyrstark… maybe? Either way, she won’t be married until she’s sixteen, at the very earliest. Though she might be Betrothed sooner rather than later, so that King Robert won’t be able to ask Eddard about her for Joffrey!
> 
> I am pants when it comes to women’s clothing, and even worse when it comes to Westerosi clothing, and also the hairstyles. So I winged it. I hope Lyarra’s appearance in this chapter is okay. Describing her clothes and hair in the future is one of my worst nightmares when it comes to writing the future of this story… right along with the whole ‘travel time across Westeros’ thing!
> 
> Next Chapter: Our first different POV change with Eddard Stark before and during some of the events of this chapter, so we can get some of his thoughts.


	3. Eddard I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally alluded in the last chapter’s end-notes, that Ned and Lyarra have their discussion in this chapter. It happens in Chapter 4, not this one.
> 
> In Eddard's PoV chapters, though his chapters will be titled "Eddard" I will usually refer to him as Ned... "Ned does this" and so on and so forth. Most others will call him Eddard, if they have permission to call him by his first name. 
> 
> I made a few name mistakes last chapter (Lyanna instead of Lyarra) which I corrected. If it happens in my future chapters, please let me know and I'll correct it.

**Eddard  
  
  
** During the early hours of the morning, as he had done a number of times since his arrival in this Westeros, that was different from the one he was born into, Lord Eddard ‘Ned’ Stark once again dreamed of the Godswood in Winterfell. This wasn’t just a normal dream. These particular dreams were the Old Gods’ way of speaking to Ned, and therefore Ned was aware of everything that took place in the dream during it. Knowing what was about to happen, he walked over to the Heart Tree, and knelt down in front of it on one knee, as if he was kneeling to the King.  
  
“I am humbly at your service once again, Old Gods,” Ned stated, as was his usual greeting during these dreams.  
  
The voice in the Heart Tree that spoke to him, was the very same one that had spoken to him the first time, and the numerous times after that.  
  
“The day you have been preparing for has finally arrived, Eddard Stark,” the Old God said, “The Traveler you have been waiting for arrives today.”  
  
Ned looked at the face of the tree in alarm. “You mean Jon… Jon Snow? He… Lyarra?”  
  
“Jon Snow was murdered,” the Old God said, “And unlike his previous death, he will not be revived in that world. He will be reincarnated into your world, into the body of Lyarra Snow.”  
  
Ned was saddened by the news, but he wasn’t surprised. After all, during his original conversation with the Old God after his death by beheading in his old life, the Old God had given him a gift -- one of a few gifts he would receive. The gift was visions -- visions of what would happen to his Westeros, to the North, and to his loved ones. While he didn’t see everything, he saw many of the events that would happen to his wife, children, nephew and brother over the next few years, and most of it was grim and horrifying to learn about and witness. But these visions were necessary, so that he could prevent them in his new life.  
  
So Ned wasn’t surprised by the news of Jon Snow’s death -- technically the second one -- because he knew it would happen eventually. He just hadn’t been prepared to finally arrive at that day. The Old God was right to say he was preparing for this day… he had been waiting for several years for this day.  
  
“What happens to my Lyarra?” Ned said, knowing the counterpart of himself he replaced, had the Old Gods not intervened, would have been killed by a Wildling archer at the beginning of an ambush while he was venturing on a road on horseback with some of his men. He expected a similar fate would happen to the Lyarra he had gotten to know for a few years, so that Jon Snow could be reincarnated.  
  
“Lyarra would have been cut by a blade while training with swords,” the Old God said, “The cut, ignored and thought to be nothing terrible, would have been infected and festered, and she would have passed of a fever. Jon Snow’s reincarnation into Lyarra will now prevent that.”  
  
Even with the grim news of his dear niece’s fate had the Old Gods not intervened, Ned wanted to laugh. He couldn’t fathom Jon Snow being reincarnated into the female version of himself. He knew it would likely take time for the new Lyarra to get used to her new predicament.  
  
“Jon arrives today in Lyarra’s body?” Ned asked for clarification.  
  
“He does,” the Old God said. “We have just spoken to him before this meeting. He was wary, at first, but he agreed to it in the end, as we knew he would. We’ll let the new Lyarra explain it to you herself if she so desires to do so.”  
  
“Indeed,” Ned said, “It seems I will be having a long conversation with her today. But I have been waiting for this day for years now. I suppose you won’t tell me if there are any other Travelers out there… or if and when there will be more coming?”  
  
 _Will I reunite with more of my children from my world?_ Ned wanted to ask.  
  
“There will be other Travelers, but we cannot tell you who they are,” the Old God said, “That is something you have to find out for yourself. We have only informed you of this Traveler, because of how important she is for the future and the fate of Westeros.”  
  
“Important?” Ned asked, “Will she be Queen of Westeros?”  
  
“That is for her, and perhaps yourself, to decide, Eddard Stark,” the Old God said, “However, know this: it is not required for her to become Queen for her mission, and yours, to be successful. She does not need to be Visenya Targaryen. She could choose to remain Lyarra Snow or become a legitimized Stark, or a married woman with her husband’s name, and it wouldn’t change the endgame all that much. That is all we will tell you.”  
  
Ned sighed in relief. The Gods weren’t going to force Lyarra to become Queen. That was better news than he had hoped for. It would be Lyarra’s choice, of course, but to know that there were other paths she could take and still help save Westeros, that was quite the relief.  
  
“Thank you for allowing me to have that information,” Ned said, humbly.  
  
“Go now, Eddard Stark,” the Old God said, “Your work is far from over.”  
  
And as per usual when the Old Gods dismissed him, Ned was enveloped in a bright white light, and then immediately woke up in his bed beside his sleeping wife, Lady Catelyn. Ned adjusted his eyes to the darkness of the room and found there was a little light coming from the windows, which announced that dawn was breaking on the horizon. Which meant it was time to get up and start the day. There was much to do, and not all of it had to do with Jon Snow -- or rather the ‘new’ Lyarra Snow. He turned and kissed the forehead of the still sleeping Catelyn, who murmured and turned in the bed but remained asleep. Ned smiled and rolled out of bed and onto his feet. He then proceeded to dress for the day and ready himself for what would prove to be an eventful day indeed.  
  
Roughly an hour later, Ned was in his Solar, listening to Maester Luwin summarize the letters that had arrived by raven overnight or early that morning. Usually this was one of the first tasks of the morning meeting, instead of the one of the last. But Maester Luwin had been busy that morning, due to one of the kitchen staff receiving a nasty burn on their hand, whilst fixing the morning’s breakfast. So Luwin had shown up rather late to the meeting.  
  
“Mace Tyrell writes that he changed his initial decision of not journeying to Winterfell and the Wall with some of his family members,” Luwin said, “He has left Highgarden and is apparently meeting the Lady Olenna, and his two youngest children, his twins, Victor and Margaery, at Riverrun before continuing their journey north. As we know, they have plans to travel with members of House Martell as well. I imagine the Martells and Tyrells will meet at Riverrun then journey together. I would say, my Lord, depending on how long they stay at Riverrun, that we could expect them to make it here to Winterfell less than a moon from now. Lord Tyrell says his son, and heir, Willas, is staying behind in his stead to lord over Highgarden.”  
  
“Hmm,” Ned said, “Well, I suppose that tosses away that theory.”  
  
“Theory, my Lord?” Luwin asked.  
  
“I wondered if Lord Tyrell was interested in a discussion of Betrothal between his Heir and Sansa,” Ned said, “If Willas is remaining behind in the Reach, then perhaps not. After all, he would probably want Willas here, so that his Heir and Sansa could get to know one another.”  
  
“His youngest son, Victor, is accompanying him, my Lord,” the Steward, Vayon Poole, said, “Perhaps he means to have a discussion of Betrothal regarding Victor and Sansa. Victor is far closer in age to Sansa, after all. Willas is well over a decade older than her. ”  
  
“Victor is around a year older than Lyarra, if memory serves,” Ned said.  
  
 _And wasn’t that a shock years ago when I found out that Mace Tyrell has a fourth son in this world?_ Ned mused, _A son who is also a twin to his only daughter, Margaery._ _  
__  
_“I doubt Lord Tyrell means to discuss a Betrothal regarding Lyarra, given her status,” Vayon said, “No offense, my Lord.”  
  
 _If only you knew, my friend,_ Ned mused, _If Mace Tyrell knew the truth, he’d be begging for a Betrothal with Lyarra… except it would likely be for his Heir, Willas, no matter the large gap in age difference._

“I suppose we’ll see what his interests are when he arrives,” Ned commented, dismissively, “Continue, Maester. Any word on how many of Prince Oberyn’s children he is bringing with him?”  
  
“Not yet, my Lord,” Luwin said, “But if you asked me to wager, I would say most of his older children, and perhaps those whose mother is his current paramour, if he has brought her along with him.”  
  
“As far as I know, Prince Oberyn goes nowhere without his paramour,” Ned said, with a light chuckle.  
  
 _Especially since I can’t recall if Prince Oberyn has ever sampled the brothel in Winter Town,_ Ned mused. _If we can’t find him in the keep, he’ll likely be there with his paramour, sampling the ‘goods’, shall we say?  
  
_ “Well, I think we should prepare for most, if not all, of Prince Oberyn’s children to join him then,” Vayon said, “And probably also be prepared to host some of his daughters, while he and the remainder of his party venture to the Wall.”  
  
“Some,” Ned agreed, “But not all. The Sand Snakes, as they are called, I believe, are warrior women, like Lyarra, and Lady Maege and some of her daughters. Some of them will venture with their father to the Wall. That, I would definitely wager. And I would not worry about any of the rougher sort at the Wall wishing to scare any of those young ladies, or worse. I would wager those young ladies would scare men twice their size, especially those who underestimate them.”  
  
“Well, I hope we’ll get a final tally, by raven,” Vayon said, “of who is in the Martell party, before they arrive, just so we can be prepared for them.”

“Aye,” Ned said, “Perhaps the Martells will send us a raven with that information during their stay at Riverrun. Or if they don’t, perhaps Cat’s father or brother will report on the party they hosted and will do it instead. Any more letters, Maester?”  
  
“One more,” Luwin said, “From your brother, Benjen.”  
  
“Benjen?” Ned said, “Did the letter arrive by raven?”  
  
Ned was alarmed by this. Most letters he received from Benjen did not come by raven, for very important reasons.  
  
Roughly a year after his arrival to this world, Ned had traveled to Castle Black, and had convinced Jeor Mormont, Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, to let Ned ‘borrow’ his brother for a while. In return, Ned suggested that Alliser Thorne replace Benjen as First Ranger. Thanks to the visions the Old Gods had granted him, Ned knew exactly who Thorne was, and remembered exactly what the man had done to Jon Snow in the other life. Making him First Ranger, and having Thorne be sent out on Rangings and to -- hopefully -- his eventual demise, was something Ned didn’t mind allowing to happen… not one bit.  
  
After much debate and pondering, Jeor Mormont had agreed to Ned’s suggestion, and ever since then, Benjen had been a ‘special envoy’ for the Night’s Watch, and in the past few years had rarely spent consecutive weeks at a time at Castle Black or one of the other active castles on the Wall. And not once had Benjen ventured Beyond The Wall since Ned made him the ‘special envoy’. To those who were not in the know, Benjen Stark’s job was to journey around Westeros, promoting the Night’s Watch, and convincing common citizens to become volunteers for the Watch, and Lords to sentence their prisoners to the Wall, instead of death.  
  
One of Ned’s early changes, one of those having to do with the Night’s Watch, was changing the volunteer system. Those who were simply volunteers, and not sentenced to the Night’s Watch, had a choice whether or not they wanted to make their stay with the Watch permanent. The minimum volunteer time was three years, while the maximum was for the rest of their life. However, unlike those sentenced to the Night’s Watch, their vows were not as harsh as those who were sentenced. Also, for every year they volunteered with the Watch, the person’s family would get tax reductions, as well as a sizable bag of money each moon to help get them through the years without their volunteering family members being with them.  
  
Because of this, there were a great number of volunteers entering the Night’s Watch every moon now. There was even history of some third-born and lesser highborn sons and their cousins from Houses across Westeros volunteering for the Watch, instead of the armies in their part of the country. These highborn boys were usually far more skilled than most in the Watch, when it came to combat, so they were quite welcomed, even those who only volunteered for a few years.  
  
Benjen’s true job in addition to recruitment, that only Ned and a few others knew about, was that he was Ned’s secret messenger -- one of them, at least -- as well as the head of Ned’s small band of spies. Yes, Lord Eddard Stark had his own gang of ‘little birds’, and Benjen was the leader of the flock. If Ned needed to send secret messages to contacts around Westeros, and even Essos, or receive messages in return, Benjen -- or one of his trusted crew -- would travel with the message, whether it be from Winterfell, with a letter from Ned, or back to Winterfell with a letter being placed directly into Ned’s hands. Because of this, Benjen rarely ever sent a letter by raven.  
  
“Yes, my Lord,” Luwin said, “It was a simple message letting us know that Benjen would be arriving in Winterfell soon enough. Whether he will be here before Houses Tyrell and Martell get here, or whether he will be traveling with them when they arrive, he did not say. He only said he would be here soon. He reports he is physically and mentally well, and asks you not worry for him.”  
  
Ned nodded. That was the type of letter Benjen was allowed to send by raven.  
  
There were only seven people who knew Eddard Stark’s biggest secret -- the one secret bigger than Lyarra Snow’s true name and parentage. Two of them were with him in this room -- yes, he had informed these men of that secret, even though he had not trusted them yet with Lyarra’s parentage. The others in the know were his wife, Catelyn, Benjen Stark, Rodrik and Jory Cassel, and Howland Reed. Of those who knew, Howland Reed was the only unintentional one. But he was one that Ned should have predicted to have known without being told firsthand.  
  
One day, about six moons after Ned’s ‘reincarnation’, Howland had arrived at Winterfell, and met with Ned in private. In this very Solar, he basically confronted Ned, and said he had a greendream regarding Ned’s reincarnation. Shocked by Howland’s confession, Ned proceeded to tell Howland the same information he had let the others who were in on the secret know.  
  
Although Howland was an unexpected part of the secret, he was one of the more useful members of the small ‘club’ of people who knew. It had been Howland who had, by messenger instead of raven, informed Ned of Ramsay Snow’s whereabouts and the bastard’s alleged crimes. It had been Howland’s information that had sparked the hunt for the bastard that would ultimately lead to Ramsay Snow and Roose Bolton’s executions.  
  
Ramsay Snow and Roose Boltson had been two names on a list of people who Ned had told the small ‘club’ to be on the lookout for. These names were people who Ned considered a danger to himself, his family, his friends, the North and, for some of the names, all of Westeros.  
  
Another name had been Petyr “Littlefinger'' Baelish, and hadn’t that led to quite the revealing conversation with Catelyn? His wife had considered Petyr to be her good friend, almost like a little brother to her. However, unlike Ramsay Snow, and Roose Bolton, Petyr Baelish was still alive. How long he would remain that way… well, Ned was still pondering that. One of Benjen’s duties whilst on his travels, was to keep an eye on Littlefinger’s misdeeds and movements, as he was currently one of the more dangerous names on the list.  
  
Of course, Ned had already taken roads to prevent one of Littlefinger’s worst misdeeds. Over the past few years, Ned had sent several letters, and received several responses, via one of his messengers, to and from Jon Arryn. With a careful and skilled word, Ned had convinced Jon Arryn to be very cautious of any food, drink, and medicine he ingested or was given, that they could contain poisons. Jon was also aware that Ned was ‘in the know’ about the big Lannister secret. Ned had advised Jon not to make any big movements or hints regarding that secret, and that he should leave it to those outside King’s Landing to deal with in a timely manner. Thankfully, Jon had agreed, and had backed down from his own investigation. He had also told Jon about theories and rumors he heard regarding Lysa Arryn’s friendship with Littlefinger. Whilst Jon had done nothing about their friendship yet, he was ever watchful regarding those two. So far, it seemed as if Jon’s murder in the other world would be prevented in this one.  
  
 _I hope so, at least,_ Ned mused _. Aside from the obvious fact that I’d hate to lose Jon again, I have no wish to become Robert’s Hand in this lifetime. I have much more important tasks to take care of here in the North._ _  
__  
_“Very well,” Ned said, “If you are finished, Maester, I believe this session is over, unless you two have any more concerns.”  
  
“Is there anything we should know right now -- er -- regarding you-know-what?” Vayon asked, looking a little uncomfortable.  
  
‘You-know-what’ meant the big secret, Ned knew. Even though Luwin and Vayon were ‘in the know’ regarding his big secret, he was not about to tell them about Lyarra’s new predicament yet. Not until he had spoken to Lyarra at the very least.  
  
Ned smiled and shook his head. “Not right now. I’ll let you know if that changes. Has there been any word of sightings of a large pregnant female Direwolf in the Wolfswood yet?”  
  
“No, my Lord,” Vayon said, “But I can check with our hunters who routinely trek through the wood, if you wish.”  
  
“I wish it,” Ned said, “Do let the hunters know that under no circumstances do I want that wolf harmed. I would like to meet it before it whelps, if I could. I believe the wolf and its litter could be very useful to us in the future.”  
  
 _I would not be unhappy if that wolf became my companion,_ Ned mused, _just like its pups will become companions to my children and Lyarra._ _  
__  
_“Of course, my Lord,” Vayon said. “It will be done. I remember your stories of the direwolves that the children had as their companions. The wolf is the mother to those wolves in your story?”  
  
“It is,” Ned said, “She was dead, killed by a stag last time. Her pups survived, of course, though they would have perished had we not found them.”  
  
“A direwolf killed by a stag,” Vayon said, then whistled, “Did you see that as an omen for the future, my Lord?”  
  
“Unfortunately, I did not,” Ned muttered, “Maybe it would have been better if I had. Hopefully this time it does not happen.”  
  
Vayon and Luwin nodded in agreement.  
  
Ned cleared his throat. “I believe we are finished here for now. Thank you both for another productive and informative meeting this morning. I have no letters to send right now, Maester. We’ll see if that changes later in the day.”  
  
“Yes, my Lord,” Luwin said.  
  
Ned stood, and Vayon -- who was the only other one sitting -- stood up as well. The three men left the Solar, all heading off in their own directions. Ned, himself, was heading toward the Great Hall. During his trek, he smiled when he heard small footsteps running, and saw his younger daughter, Arya, run into the corridor and begin to head the opposite direction from him.  
  
“Arya Stark, stop running in the halls,” Ned called out. “You know better.”  
  
Ned smirked when Arya froze in position, then slowly turned toward him. Ned looked her over and found that, for once, she didn’t look dirty or disheveled. Which meant she hadn’t yet been out in the yard that morning practicing with a sword or bow unchaperoned. ‘Yet’ was the keyword, of course.

“Why are you not in the Great Hall with our family, sweetling?” Ned asked.  
  
“I… was just going there, Father!” Arya said, “I was heading there from my bedroom, after taking my bath and getting dressed. That is why I’m late.”  
  
“Did you get lost?” Ned asked, not believing his daughter’s tale one bit, “Your bedroom is on the other side of the keep.”  
  
Arya blushed and looked down at her feet, knowing she had been caught.  
  
“I don’t need to know what you were doing,” Ned said, “However, you will tell your Lady mother that you lied to me, and you will accept whatever punishment she gives you.”  
  
“Yes, Father,” Arya mumbled.  
  
“I am heading to breakfast myself,” Ned said, as he approached his youngest daughter, “We will go together, so we can make sure we don’t get lost. Alright?”  
  
Arya looked up, smiled and nodded. He recognized the look in her eyes.  
  
 _She’s still thinking about getting into more mischief again,_ Ned sighed, _Why does that surprise me? Maybe I should think about bringing Syrio Forel to Winterfell to work with Arya. Maybe I can ask Benjen to get in touch with Forel? I wonder if Forel is in King’s Landing yet. Training with the dancing master would give her an option to train with swords, without trying to do so in secret, and getting in trouble for it. Maybe water dancing can help turn her mischief into something productive. Something that could help her become someone other than a Faceless Man again._ _  
__  
_Ned shivered unconsciously as he recalled one of the scenes regarding Arya from the old visions he had been given by the Old Gods. A scene that had taken place in the Twins, and was somehow more horrifying to him than the Red Wedding, simply because it was Arya who was responsible for it. _Freys and pies..._

Ned snapped himself out of those grim thoughts and motioned Arya forward, then proceeded to follow her toward the Great Hall. When they arrived, Arya didn’t run to the table, but walked sluggishly. She didn’t say anything to her mother, but Ned expected the girl wanted breakfast before she had to face a lecture from her mother. Ned searched the main table and his eyes misted over when he saw Lyarra sitting at the table with Sansa and the other young girls.  
  
 _Is that truly you, Jon?_ Ned wondered, _Your outfit and hairstyle look nearly impeccable for Lyarra, if a bit casual. I half-expected to see Lyarra in men’s clothing… or at least the stuff she wears for her sword and archery lessons. She looks like… well, like a Lady! Is that truly Jon’s mind in her body now?_

Ned cleared his throat and walked over to the table. Instead of sitting down at his usual seat, he walked over toward where Lyarra was seated. When he arrived, Lyarra turned and looked up at him. He studied her, but found nothing that would indicate she was looking at someone who she had known to be dead for several years.  
  
“Good morning, girls,” Ned said, politely, to the group of girls in general.  
  
“Good morning, Father,” Sansa said.  
  
“Good morning, Lord Stark,” the other girls -- aside from Sansa and Lyarra -- said in near unison.  
  
Lyarra didn’t respond, which might have been a hint that she was nervous to speak to him.  
  
“Lyarra, would you please join me in my Solar after breakfast?” Ned asked his niece, “I wish to have a private discussion, just between you and I.”  
  
Lyarra did indeed look nervous. “Yes, sir.”  
  
 _I do believe that is you, Jon,_ Ned mused, _Though I suppose you go by Lyarra now. I’m sure you’re still getting used to your new name… and so much more. I was quite lucky to retain the same identity from my old life. Made it less confusing._  
  
“Thank you,” Ned said.  
  
He turned and walked back down to the other end of the table, then sat down in his usual chair. As he began filling his plate with the available breakfast choices in front of him, he saw his wife turn from their youngest son, and toward him.  
  
“Is it okay that I asked Rodrik to excuse Lyarra from her sparring and archery lessons for the time being?” Catelyn asked.  
  
“You did?” Ned asked, looking at his wife, “Why?”  
  
 _Did Lyarra do something noticeable that made Catelyn concerned?_ Ned wondered, _Did she notice that something is different with Lyarra?_ _  
__  
_“You don’t know?” Catelyn replied, “I thought that was why you spoke to her.”  
  
“I need to speak with her privately in my Solar after breakfast,” Ned said, “That is what I told her. Why? What happened to her that prompted her to be temporarily removed from her lessons?”  
  
“Nothing too bad,” Catelyn said, keeping her voice low, “Merely that her moonblood started today.”  
  
Ned nearly choked and looked down toward Lyarra. If Jon Snow’s mind and soul really was in his niece’s body… it meant her first day in this world had to start with something like that?! Once again, Ned wanted to laugh at the incredulity of it, but he knew it would be quite the rude thing to do.  
  
“Oh,” Ned said, swallowing, “Well, yes, that is a good reason for her to be excused from her training for the time being, I suppose.”

“Indeed it is,” Catelyn said, “It is only proper. I doubt even Maege Mormont allows her daughters to train under such circumstances.”  
  
“Maybe Lyarra _should_ train under such circumstances,” Ned suggested. “If she were ever to be involved in a battle or war, she could not excuse herself due to such circumstances.”  
  
“You would put her in the Northern Army if there was a war?” Catelyn asked, surprised.  
  
Ned lowered his voice. “You already know the North is going to be in a war sooner or later, and I don’t mean one with the South. Lyarra would certainly be involved in that.”  
  
“Oh,” Catelyn said, “Yes, I suppose she would volunteer herself for that, wouldn’t she?”  
  
“If it meant protecting her family, she would in a heartbeat,” Ned said, resolutely, knowing that, if he was correct with his suspicions, and what the Old God had told him, about what was currently going on with his niece, then he knew Lyarra had done exactly that in her past life, and would very likely do the same in this one.  
  
“Yes, you’re probably correct,” Catelyn said. “Maybe I should have asked her if she wanted to train anyway, even while she’s dealing with her current condition.”  
  
“I’ll ask her myself when I speak to her,” Ned said.  
  
“You?” Catelyn said, “You never volunteered to have a discussion with her or Sansa about such things. You usually leave it up to me, or one of their companions.”

“Today is a fine day to start, I suppose,” Ned said.  
  
“I suppose,” Catelyn said, though it wasn’t in resolute agreement. “What do you need to talk to her about anyway?”  
  
“This and that,” Ned said, vaguely, “I’ll let you know if there is anything we discuss that you need to know.”  
  
“Are you going to bring her and Robb into your confidences about… _you know_ ?” Catelyn asked, in a low whisper.  
  
Ned glared at her, silently informing her to not speak of such things in public. Speaking vaguely about possible wars and battles amongst others was alright, since it was always a possibility, but Catelyn was toeing the line when it came to discussing Ned’s biggest secret in public.  
  
“I have yet to decide,” Ned said, “But it is something I’ll take under consideration.”  
  
“Of course,” Catelyn said, “My apologies. I know better than to speak of such things here.”  
  
Ned merely nodded and began eating his meal.  
  
Every now and then, Ned would look Lyarra’s way, to see if he could see her acting out of the ordinary, instead of how he knew his niece normally acted. Once or twice, Lyarra even caught him looking at her, and he immediately focused back on his meal.  
  
As he was nearly finished with his meal, Ned realized there was something else he needed to discuss with his wife.  
  
“I should tell you this,” Ned said, in a low voice. Catelyn looked up from her meal, “Lord Mace Tyrell sent a raven, and informed me that he has decided to join some of his family on their journey North. His Heir, Willas, is remaining in Highgarden, but his youngest, Victor, is joining him, as is Victor’s twin sister, Margaery. There are no confirmations, but there is a possibility that the discussion of a Betrothal between Sansa and Victor could come up. I originally thought it might be Willas instead, but since he is remaining in the South, now I believe it might be the youngest son instead of eldest, who could be brought up as an offer of Betrothal for Sansa.”  
  
“Truly?” Catelyn said, and a hint of a smile formed on her face.  
  
“Only a possibility,” Ned said, “It is just a theory of mine. Though if it happens, Sansa would not get married before she is sixteen, at the earliest. And I am not letting her leave the North, until she is married. That is, for certain.”  
  
Ned then thought of the coming war with the Night King. “Well, unless she is forced to for other reasons, and only then it would be because she is going with others who are also traveling South, to escape dangers in the North.”  
  
“Of course,” Catelyn said, then lowered her voice, “If Sansa does marry the youngest Tyrell boy, what are the chances that Sansa could remain in the North and she and the young man can create a new House here? You could give them land, and build them a castle before they marry.”  
  
“I would most certainly bring the subject up with Lord Tyrell, if a discussion does take place,” Ned said, “Yes, I would very much like it if Sansa remained here in the North with her future husband and family.”  
  
 _I know better than most that Starks don’t do well at all in the South. No, I would prefer if Sansa raised a family in the North with her future husband._  
  
“As would I,” Catelyn said; she hesitated, then added, “Perhaps if Lord Tyrell doesn’t bring it up, you could do it instead. It would mean she wouldn’t be available for a certain Prince...”  
  
“I’ve already considered that myself, Cat,” Ned said, nodding. “I am going to think about it plenty between now and the arrival of the Tyrells and Martells. However… there is a possibility I am wrong, and it isn’t Sansa that Lord Tyrell would be interested in.”  
  
Catelyn raised an eyebrow. “Lyarra?”  
  
“Indeed,” Ned said, “Though somehow I suspect Prince Oberyn would offer a Betrothal with his son, Doryn Sand, sooner than Lord Tyrell would.”  
  
Catelyn nodded. “You aren’t going to tell them about her, are you? Even if she does become Betrothed to one of their sons?”  
  
 _I hope I can avoid that,_ Ned fretted, _The Old God said Lyarra didn’t need to be Visenya Targaryen for our endgame to succeed. If Lyarra could live her whole life -- married or not -- as a Snow, or Stark, or taking her husband’s name, and never reveal to anyone outside House Stark whom she truly is, I would be quite happy with that._  
  
“I’ll speak to Lyarra about it,” Ned decided, “And offer up my theories on the possibility of topics of Betrothal being discussed in the future. We’ll see what she has to say about it.”  
  
 _That should be interesting,_ Ned mused, _How will this new Lyarra respond to the idea of getting married to a young man? Would she be disgusted, given who she originally was?  
  
_ “Speaking of Betrothals,” Cat said, in a low tone, “I’ve noticed that Robb and Wynafryd have been spending some time together. I don’t think anything improper has happened, but… I think Robb might be finally making his choice of who he wants for a wife.”  
  
Ned smiled. “I’ll talk to him later and mention the topic of Betrothal, and Wynafryd and Jorelle. If not today, then tomorrow -- perhaps tomorrow will be better and, today, I can watch their interactions myself. I suppose it might be better if he chooses before the Tyrells and Martells arrive. Of what I know of Margaery Tyrell, she might set her sights on him, if he is unspoken for. And then there is, of course, all of Prince Oberyn’s daughters, a few of whom are around Robb’s age. Bastards they may be, they’re still attractive girls from what I have heard. Now, while I wouldn’t mind if Robb and Margaery were matched...”  
  
“You’ve already promised Lady Mormont and Lord Manderly that one of their daughters has the best chance to marry Robb,” Catelyn finished.  
  
“Indeed,” Ned said, “Yes, I think it would be best if Robb is spoken for before our guests arrive.”  
  
Catelyn smiled and nodded, and returned her focus to Rickon, who was playing with his food again, allowing Ned to return to his meal, and finally finish it.  
  
When Ned was finished with his meal, he stood up and looked toward Lyarra. Lyarra looked at him, then spoke briefly to Sansa and the girls near her. Then she stood and turned and walked toward Ned. Ned turned and led Lyarra out of the Great Hall. Neither he nor Lyarra spoke a word as they headed for his Solar.  
  
When they finally entered the Solar, Ned motioned to the chair Vayon Poole had been sitting in earlier that morning. Lyarra sat down in the chair, looking quite nervous. Ned shut the door and barred it, locking him and Lyarra into the room, and making sure nobody would be able to come into the room either. He rounded the desk, and sat down in his own chair. He studied Lyarra, and found her looking at him, and she seemed to be studying him too. A few moments later, Ned relaxed back in his chair.  
  
 _Well, I suppose I shouldn’t waste time with small talk,_ Ned mused, _If I am correct, this conversation we will be having will be long enough without unnecessary distractions._  
  
“Tell me true, Lyarra,” Ned said, “What do you know about the name Jon Snow?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, the same cliffhanger two chapters in a row, I just did that! I really wanted to begin the conversation in this chapter, but the conversation is going to be in Lyarra’s PoV, and I decided to leave it for a chapter on its own. 
> 
> Two fanfictions inspired me for this chapter when it comes to Ned. “The Pack Survives” by “Youngthundercat67”, when it comes to Ned receiving visions of the future when he dies. And “The Dragon’s Roar” by “Priestess_Of_Groove”, except in this story it is Ned who has spent a few years “back in time” (or rather, in a new world) before the main character arrives. I highly recommend both stories! They are both amazing!
> 
> So Ned has already told a few people about his biggest secret (the time/dimension travel secret), simply because they could help him with his mission. Benjen and Howland are the two most important who can help him, as we see. Because of their help, Ramsay and Roose are dead, and Littlefinger is being watched. Originally I think I was going to have Littlefinger be dead too, but decided against it. I wanted that to be shown in the story, instead of a description like Ramsay and Roose. There is a possibility there will be a flashback for Roose and Ramsay’s demise, but don’t count on it.
> 
> Also, Ned has taken steps to keep Jon Arryn alive. Will it work? We’ll see! And what do you think of the changes to the Night’s Watch Ned has implemented? I was grinning when I wrote about Alliser Thorne being moved to a position where he would spend most of his time beyond the Wall. Is death in his near future? Or perhaps a worse fate? Hmm...
> 
> Next Chapter: Back to Lyarra as the big discussion takes place between the first two Travelers in this story!


	4. Lyarra III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those of you who have commented, subscribed and given Kudos to this story so far! This chapter is for those early birds who have given this story a chance before it gets popular!
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Allusions to and mentions of: Starkcest, Incest, Fem-Slash, Brothels, and Prostitution.

_“Tell me true, Lyarra,” Eddard said, “What do you know about the name Jon Snow?”_ _  
_ _  
_Lyarra swallowed. So she was right. Ned _was_ the Traveler the Old God had mentioned.  
  
“I had a feeling it was you who the Old Gods said were waiting for me,” Lyarra replied to her Uncle’s question. “Yes, _Uncle,_ I am _quite_ familiar with that name.”  
  
“You knew that it was me?” Eddard asked.  
  
“Not until during breakfast,” Lyarra said, “It was the way you looked at me. At first I thought it was because I look like my mother. Then I noticed you kept looking at me, and I realized… you were looking for the differences in me, and the Lyarra you knew.”  
  
“You do,” Eddard said, “Look like your mother, in fact.”  
  
“How much?” Lyarra asked, “Enough that King Robert would take notice?”  
  
Eddard grimaced. “Perhaps. I can see why you would ask such a question. If he visits Winterfell, I will do my best to keep him away from you. That is a promise. Anyway, you were correct. I was, indeed, looking for the differences in you and my niece. I had a dream this morning, and spoke with one of the Old Gods. Dreams are how the Old Gods contact me, and I am sure you will experience similar dreams in the future. They informed me that you had died in the old world and arrived here today. At first I thought the Old God was mistaken, given your choice of clothing and hairstyle. It is very well done and convincing for someone who used to be a young man, and is now experiencing their first day as a girl.”  
  
“The Old Gods gave me her memories,” Lyarra said, “I was able to look at how she would dress, and how she’d style her hair. Although... I am rather surprised I did so well. I thought I would be scolded for having a bad appearance.”  
  
“No, it is very well done,” Eddard said, smiling. “So you have Lyarra’s memories? All of them?”  
  
“What she could remember, at least,” Lyarra said, “I am sure she doesn’t have many memories of when she was a babe, after all.”  
  
“A good point,” Eddard conceded, “That is a very good gift indeed. Yes, I was given the same, though they weren’t very different. The only big change here in Winterfell was the fact that you are a girl instead of a boy. That was rather strange at first. Especially since you do look like Lyanna.”  
  
“You’re telling me,” Lyarra snorted. “Why are you not surprised that I know the truth about my parents? That I am not surprised by the memories of the old Lyarra learning the truth?”  
  
“The Old Gods gave me visions during my first conversation with them,” Eddard said, “Visions of what would take place in the future in the old world. What would happen to you, my wife, my children, the North and Westeros in general. I didn’t see everything, just what was important. I was given these visions so I could prevent such things from happening in this world.”  
  
“That is a very good gift,” Lyarra agreed, “However… that must have been horrible to witness.”  
  
“It was, indeed,” Eddard said, “But it was necessary, and it was quite useful. I wouldn’t take such an opportunity back if I had another choice. I would have made the same decision.”  
  
Lyarra nodded. “How long have you been here? In this world?”  
  
“Six years,” Eddard said, “Roughly.”  
  
“Six years,” Lyarra said, hoarsely, “That is roughly the same amount of time that passed since you were executed. I mean the time between your death and mine. My -- er -- _second_ death I mean.”  
  
“That makes a lot of sense,” Eddard said, nodding. “It is certainly very interesting.”  
  
“You’ve made a few changes so far,” Lyarra said, “Probably more changes than the old Lyarra was even aware about. But I do know about Ramsay Snow and Roose Bolton’s fates. And I am vaguely aware of changes happening at the Wall, Castle Black and the Night’s Watch. Only vaguely though.”  
  
“It is a long story, much of which I won’t get into today,” Eddard said, “But I suppose the story shall begin with this: only a small group of people know about this secret… the secret that I am not the original Eddard Stark. Lady Catelyn knows, as does your Uncle Benjen, Maester Luwin, Vayon Poole, Ser Rodrik and Jory Cassel, and Howland Reed.”  
  
“You told Maester Luwin, Vayon Poole, and the Cassels this secret, but not the one about my parents?” Lyarra asked.  
  
“You must have her memories if you know about that,” Eddard said, “Yes… that is correct. I felt that if they proved they could be trusted with my biggest secret, then I might find a point in the future that I could trust them with that secret as well. However, that particular conversation has yet to be brought up, though it could come in the coming weeks or moons. Do you know who _does_ know that secret in this world?”  
  
“Uncle Benjen, Lady Catelyn, Lord Howland Reed, Robb, Sansa, Arya and Bran,” Lyarra said.  
  
“Indeed,” Eddard said, nodding with a smile, “Rickon is too young yet, but in time he will be told too. I deemed Arya and Bran old enough when they were the same age as Sansa when I told her. So far, they have all done well to keep the secret. Anyway, back to my story. Of those names who know my big secret, Howland Reed was the only one who I wasn’t planning on telling. However, he confronted me about it, and said he had a greendream of my reincarnation.”  
  
Lyrra laughed. “You always did speak highly of him. I never met him, though I suppose he would have told me of my parents if I did meet him. It was Samwell Tarly, and Bran, in a way, who told me about it.”  
  
“Yes, I saw that in those visions I mentioned,” Eddard said, “I am surprised Lord Reed never made it his mission to tell you the truth after my death, though of course you were beyond his reach for many years, so perhaps that explains why he did not speak to you.  
  
“Anyway, I’m getting off track again. It was Howland Reed who gave me a letter regarding Ramsay Snow. I sent a battalion of Winterfell soldiers to hunt Ramsay down. Jory Cassel was in charge of it. They were to capture him, not kill him, if it was in their power to do so. They succeeded -- in fact, it was Jory who ran down the bastard on horseback and captured him -- and I, along with Robb, Theon, and a few other men traveled to the Dreadfort. We met Jory, the soldiers, and the captured bastard near the Dreadfort. My original plans were to simply inform Roose Bolton of Ramsay’s crimes. I did not expect to find what I did. Or rather… what Jory and a group of soldiers found.”  
  
“Flayed and tortured victims,” Lyarra said.  
  
“Indeed,” Eddard said, with a grimace, “Found them in a dungeon that was supposed to be hidden from visitors and guests. But Jory was able to find it. It was a horrid, terrible sight. I’ll never forget it. And I am _quite_ sure the same crimes happened in the world of our past. I still regret the fact that Robb and Theon were there to witness such a gruesome scene. Anyway, I arrested Roose along with a group of his men who were also culpable of the crimes, put them and Ramsay on trial, and found them guilty. I beheaded each and every one of them myself, as is the old way. I had to clean a lot of blood off of Ice that day. Domeric Bolton was still being fostered at the time, so I sent a letter to him, and he came back to the Dreadfort and became the Lord.”  
  
“I know he is now married to GreatJon Umber’s eldest daughter,” Lyarra said.  
  
“Yes, Jonelle,” Eddard said, “She was originally a candidate for Robb’s future wife, but the GreatJon decided Domeric was a good enough man for his daughter’s hand instead. Also he was readily available to be married at the time, so that was another point for him. It is a good match. They’ll take House Bolton in a better direction. The Flayed Man banner is no more, so that should tell you how Domeric feels about where he wants House Bolton to go.”

“You say you had visions of much that happened,” Lyarra said, “So you saw what happened between Ramsay and Sansa…?”  
  
“I did,” Eddard said, narrowing his eyes, “And yes, that is exactly why Ramsay Snow and Roose Bolton were in my sights. Just two of several names I have on a list. Littlefinger, the Freys -- especially Lord Walder -- and a few Lannisters are on that list among others.”  
  
Lyarra winced. “You should know that Jaime and Tyrion…”  
  
“I know they were redeemed in their own ways, Lyarra,” Eddard cut in, “I saw that in the visions. However, as far as I can tell, the current Jaime Lannister is basically the same man he was when he pushed Bran from the Broken Tower… which by the way, is no longer broken in this world as I have taken steps over the years to have it repaired. Just one of a few changes I’ve made to Winterfell.  
  
“I have also taken steps to make sure Bran doesn’t climb too much these days. He likes horseback riding more than climbing these days. I gave him his own colt on his eighth nameday, whom he named -- appropriately -- ‘Colt’.”  
  
“Better than Rickon and Shaggydog, I suppose,” Lyarra laughed.  
  
Ned smiled. “Indeed. Colt has grown into a magnificent horse, and it is Bran’s, and only Bran's, responsibility to feed, groom and take care of the horse. He used to have to muck out Colt’s stall, but I allowed him to be done with that responsibility, and it is left to the other stable staff. Bran was reluctant at first, but now he enjoys even the smallest tasks when it comes to Colt. So, yes, these days I rarely, if ever, see him climbing. So I believe I’ve prevented that event from taking place if the same circumstances come to happen again.”

“I suppose you have a point regarding Jaime,” Lyarra said, “I shouldn’t rely on my memories of the people I knew during those last moons and years. I must remember that some of those people took long journeys before they became the men and women they were.”  
  
“Including yourself,” Eddard said, smiling, “Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch and King in the North.”  
  
“Including me,” Lyarra said, smiling. “Speaking of the Night’s Watch. Tell me about the changes you’ve implemented there, please.”  
  
Lyarra listened as Eddard summarized the changes he had brought forth, with Lord Commander Jeor Mormont’s help. He smiled at how life changed at the Wall for those who volunteered instead of sentenced to the Wall. Jon Snow had been a volunteer, of course, and Lyarra was rather envious that she had none of the opportunities those volunteers in this world had now at the Wall. Lyarra was shocked at the fact that Eddard had basically ‘rescued’ Benjen from the Night’s Watch, so he could use him for his own needs, even though, technically, he was still a man of the Watch. Lyarra also grinned ferally at the idea of Eddard naming Alliser Thorne the First Ranger.  
  
“Hopefully he dies on a Great Ranging,” Lyarra said, with a grin. “I wouldn’t even be sad if a wight got him. I would love to meet him as a wight on the battlefield.”

“I thought you might say that,” Eddard said, “I am aware of what he put you through in that life. I am aware of everything you went through at the Wall and beyond it.”  
  
“Uncle,” Lyarra said, blushed, “You don’t need --”  
  
“No, Lyarra, I do need to say this,” Eddard cut in. “One of my biggest regrets of my first life is not telling you about your parents. I could have told you before, or even when, you made the decision to join the Night’s Watch. If you had known who you truly were, would you have gone to the Wall still?”  
  
“Your wife wasn’t going to allow me to stay here, Uncle,” Lyarra said.  
  
Ned shifted uncomfortably. “I am quite aware of how Catelyn treated you in that life, and I am happy to say she has treated Lyarra far better in this one. However, you could have come south with me, Sansa and Arya. You could have had a much better life! You could have been someone’s squire! Ser Barristan would have been a wonderful mentor for you, even if he didn’t know your true identity. If he did, he would have fallen head over arse for you to be his squire.”  
  
“I was at the Wall for many reasons, Uncle,” Lyarra said, “Many I wasn’t aware of when I had decided to volunteer. And one of those reasons was to save Jeor Mormont from being killed by wights. If I’m not there to stop it this time…”  
  
“Lyarra, stop,” Eddard said, raising a hand. “The Night’s Watch you were a part of was completely different to this one with the changes that have been put forth. Every single person who goes to the Wall and mans a castle there is forewarned about wights and white walkers. Those who think we are japing when we warn them, are warned again. Let’s just say they don’t need to be warned a third time. Everyone at the Wall is ready for wights and white walkers. The dead are burned, every single one of them.  
  
“In fact, here in the North, I’ve influenced a new tradition to burn our dead. Now nearly every single person living North of the Neck does it. Five years ago, I even took steps to burn the bones of our ancestors in the crypts. The bodies are now ashes in urns.”  
  
“That must have been a controversial decision,” Lyarra said.  
  
“It was,” Eddard said, “Took nearly a year for many of the Lords and families in the North to agree to burn their dead. There are still a few -- only a small number -- of families in the smaller villages who do not burn their dead. I’ve figured that when the war with the Night King begins in earnest, will I make it a mandatory law to burn the dead, and not bury them. And yes, it was also a controversial decision to burn the dead in the crypts, but I won over the minds here in Winterfell eventually.”  
  
Lyarra nodded. She was glad that burning the dead was now an accepted tradition in the North.  
  
“I promise you, Lyarra,” Eddard continued, “Lord Commander Mormont is well prepared, and well-warned when it comes to the wights. He is ready at any moment for the possibility of a wight attacking Castle Black. In fact… we are counting on it.”  
  
“What?” Lyarra asked, “Really?”  
  
“We need those wights, Lyarra,” Eddard said, “For the very same reason you brought a wight from beyond the Wall for that Great Council you arranged. To give proof that wights and white walkers exist. Proof that another inevitable War for the Dawn is coming. Only this time… we are doing it in a way that is far smarter than your suicide mission was.”  
  
“Excuse me?” Lyarra asked, knowing exactly what her Uncle was referring to, “It was not a suicide mission!”  
  
“I saw what you did due to the visions, Jon!” Eddard growled, completely forgetting that the girl in front of him was named Lyarra, due to his anger. “You were stupid. The group you brought with you was too small. And you went miles beyond the Wall. If I was in charge of that mission, I would have drawn straws with every member of my group. The loser would have sacrificed themselves, and we’d have waited for them to turn into a wight. There you go… the proof you needed!”  
  
“What kind of plan is that?!” Lyarra asked. “Sacrificing someone…”  
  
“For a greater good!” Eddard said. “For the proof you needed to bring an army to the Wall to fight the Night King and his army! Whoever sacrificed themselves would have understood exactly why such a thing was necessary!”  
  
“You’ve changed,” Lyarra said, “The old Lord Eddard Stark I knew would never have done that. He had far more honor --”  
  
“You’re right,” Eddard cut in again. “He wouldn’t have. However, that Eddard Stark told Cersei Lannister that he knew her deepest darkest secret, right to her face, and thought that she would do the right thing and take her children from King’s Landing. That Eddard Stark had forgotten that honor has no place in King’s Landing.”  
  
Lyarra frowned. “That shouldn’t mean you should give up your honor.”  
  
“I have not given up my honor, Lyarra,” Eddard said. “I just know now that there is a time and a place where you can’t be so honorable. Something I should have realized in King’s Landing. That conversation with Cersei Lannister alone cost me everything, and I don’t just mean my own life. My own head. Jory Cassel and everyone -- aside from Sansa and Arya, and poor Jeyne Poole -- who came to King’s Landing with me lost their lives because of that decision alone! Those that survived that massacre had their lives changed immeasurably. Because of my honor! Look what happened after that. I had to see the consequences of my decisions in visions all at the same time, with no delay. Everything that happened was because of my honor. Death changes you, Lyarra. I thought you would have known that, after you died the first time.”  
  
“I still would have done the same thing I did to get that wight,” Lyarra said. “I needed that wight.”  
  
“One of Daenerys’ dragons died because of that,” Eddard said. “The Wall came down because of what you did. Because the Night King turned that dead dragon, and used it for its own army. How many people died because of that? Because you needed a wight? I need a wight, Lyarra. Do you see me going miles beyond the wall for one? No! I am waiting for a dead corpse to turn up at Castle Black and turn into a wight. It will happen sooner or later. And it will happen a lot faster, and cost a much lower price than the one you paid for. And if history repeats itself, and Jeor Mormont wakes up one night to find a wight outside his bedroom -- then we’ll have our wight in a few moons it seems. Perhaps even by the time the Tyrell and Martell parties arrive at Castle Black.”

Lyarra nodded; she was still a little agitated at her Uncle mocking her, but he did seem to know what needed to be done. “It is a good idea. I’ll say that.”  
  
“Don’t look so surprised,” Eddard said. “I do know what I’m doing. I’ve had six years to think about all the mistakes I made last time, especially during those last moons of my life. I’ve done plenty already to prepare the North for the next Winter, and the war against the Night King. We’ll be ready. Even if it is just the North, and the Night’s Watch fighting the Night King and his army, we _will_ be ready.”  
  
“That is if we don’t get distracted by whatever happens in the South between now and then,” Lyarra muttered.  
  
“Yes, well,” Eddard said. “I’m not very worried about what happens in the South right now, Lyarra. I’ve already done a lot of work toward making sure Jon Arryn isn’t murdered, causing King Robert to want to recruit me as Hand. If Jon Arryn dies, and King Robert does make the offer, I won’t accept this time. I’ll tell Robert about the real threat to the North. Knowing Robert, and how I know he’s yearning for another fight, he might even volunteer himself to help us fight the Night King.”  
  
“So why haven’t you done that?” Lyarra asked. “Told him about the coming war?”  
  
Eddard grimaced. “Because I am doing everything in my power not to have to deal with Robert too much this time around. The man used to be my best friend. He used to be like a brother to me. But the man he is now, the man who named me Hand in our last life. That is not the Robert I once knew. I hardly recognized him. I was completely embarrassed by him, though I never dared say that to his face. I came close, Lya, I truly did.  
  
“Do you know what one of the first things he said to me when he asked me to be Hand? I’ll probably never forget it. He said, and I quote, ‘I’m not trying to honor you. I'm trying to get you to run my kingdom while I eat, drink, and whore my way to an early grave.’”  
  
“Gods, that is pathetic!” Lyarra spat, “And that is our King?”  
  
“That is our King,” Eddard agreed, looking sad, “And as far as I can tell, he is still the same Robert I knew in our old life. Back then, I could see what kind of man he was, and I still did everything he asked of me, because I had hoped to save him from the path he was going down. I don’t think I can do that again this time. I don’t _want_ to do it again this time. I will not be going South, and neither will any of my family. The only one who has my permission to go South, is Benjen, and everyday I fear that I have sent him to his death just by asking him to do everything he is currently doing.”

Lyarra laughed. “I am sure he’s enjoying it a lot more than the horrors he had to deal with at and beyond the Wall.”  
  
“Well, that’s the truth, I give you that,” Eddard said, with a smile. “He does seem to be enjoying himself.”

“So,” Lyarra said, “Now that I am here… now what?”  
  
“I’m not putting you to work on anything immediately, Lyarra,” Eddard said. “Look at you. You’re a girl -- a woman grown and flowered, as the saying goes. You’re already dealing with a lot on your very first day as a girl.”  
  
Lyarra’s eyes widened. “You… you know? What I’m dealing with right now?”  
  
“Your ‘condition’?” Eddard asked, with a wry smile, “My Lady wife informed me, yes. How are you coping with it?”  
  
“Honestly, it is only due to the fact that I have her memories that I am not panicking right now,” Lyarra said. “Since I know what she knows, I know how to deal with it. Of course, I probably would have panicked more if Sansa wasn’t there to help comfort me.”  
  
Eddard raised an eyebrow. “Sansa was there? Was she… in your bed when you woke up?”  
  
“Yeah,” Lyarra said, “She was -- er -- well…”  
  
“You don’t need to tell me,” Eddard said. “I am well aware of what my niece and daughter have gotten up to.”  
  
Lyarra swallowed. “So you do know? Does your wife?”  
  
“We both know about it, yes,” Eddard said. “We just have no desire to speak very much about the topic with either you or Sansa.”  
  
“Why have you… allowed it to continue?” Lyarra asked.  
  
“Because both Cat and I agree that if Sansa wants to explore such things,” Eddard said, “Then it is better that she has you to help her do it. It is better that she went to you, and not to one of the girls down at the brothel instead. Or I suppose I should say the other Lyarra. Are you going to… er… continue in Lyarra’s footsteps with Sansa?”  
  
“I suppose I’ll have to,” Lyarra said, sighing, “Unless I tell Sansa the truth about what is going on with me -- which I know isn’t a wise idea right now -- then I would only upset her if I told her we had to stop what we were doing.”  
  
“No,” Eddard said, “It is not wise to tell Sansa about this right now. She’s not ready for that. Especially since she would discover that you used to be a man in another life. It would break her heart, more than anything. As you’ve probably already discovered, Lyarra and Sansa are very close -- and not just… what they do in bed. Close friends, and still consider themselves sisters, even though they’re cousins.”  
  
“Yes, I have noticed that,” Lyarra said, “Sansa and I weren’t close to being this friendly -- in the non-intimate way, of course -- in our old life, until… after she met me at Castle Black, after she went through everything with Ramsay and everything else. And even then we weren’t this close.”  
  
“Well, now you have the opportunity to get what you missed back then,” Eddard said. “If you think you should continue in the old Lyarra’s footsteps with Sansa, then you have my permission. I know it might be awkward…”  
  
“I’ll deal with it,” Lyarra said, “For Sansa’s sake. Like you said, if I wasn’t available, she might choose to go to the brothel. I wouldn’t want her to do that.” She cleared her throat. “I… I assume you know of Lyarra’s rather frequent visits to the brothel?”  
  
Eddard nodded, shifting awkwardly. “Yes, I knew about it. From very early on, actually. Probably by her second or third visit to the brothel. Lyarra didn’t know it, but I always had one or two of the castle’s guards tail her when she went to the brothel. The guards who were assigned were frequent visitors to the establishment anyway, so it wasn’t a strange sight for the patrons there to see them sitting at a table, as they waited for Lyarra to get finished with her business. However, there was something I never discovered. Did she only lay with women, or…?”  
  
“Yes,” Lyarra said. “Only women and girls, none of them younger than Sansa currently is. No men. She hasn’t even kissed a man yet. She’s still a maiden, though -- ah --”  
  
“She lost her maidenhead while horseback riding,” Eddard said, “I am aware. She went to Maester Luwin because she had blood in her smallclothes, and it wasn’t from her moonblood. Maester Luwin soon discovered what was wrong.”  
  
Lyarra raised an eyebrow at the thought of Maester Luwin being in charge of something so private with her and other women. Why hadn’t she gone to Catelyn instead? But then, of course, she realized that Maester Luwin had delivered all of the Stark children, so perhaps it was just something that was in his nature to take care of.  
  
Eddard continued, oblivious to Lyarra’s line of thought. “Luwin reported what had happened to my wife, and Catelyn gave you -- her -- a rather long lecture on what such a thing meant for her future. Then my wife told me.”  
  
“That was… it happened sometime after Septa Mordane’s departure,” Lyarra said, “So after Lady Catelyn and Lyarra already knew who she really was.”  
  
“So you do know about that?” Eddard said, “Yes, that unfortunate event with Septa Mordane. I’ll remember that for as long as I live. I _never_ expected her to do something like that to my niece. Had I known, I would have stopped her lessons with you -- her -- long ago.”  
  
“Did Lyarra tell you that she was afraid you and Lady Catelyn agreed with everything Septa Mordane was saying?” Lyarra asked.  
  
Eddard shifted uncomfortably. “She did. In fact, it wasn’t until that day she accidentally broke her maidenhead. She was afraid she would never find a husband, since she didn’t have her maidenhead anymore. She was terrified she would be forced to join the brothel instead. Terrified that Septa Mordane was right. That was quite the conversation.”  
  
Eddard rubbed his beard, thoughtfully. “She must have gotten over her fears of being forced to join the brothel, by the time she went there as a customer for the first time.”  
  
“Hmm,” Lyarra said, “I might have to look and see if I can find that conversation in her memories. Was your Lyarra… did she _want_ to get married?”  
  
“She did,” Eddard said, smiling. “I wouldn’t say she was as obsessed with the idea of marriage like Sansa was at one point in time. But she said it didn’t matter if she married as a Snow, or a Stark, or a Targaryen. This was, of course, after she discovered she wasn’t a bastard. So I don’t know how she would have felt about such a thing before I told her the truth about her parents.”  
  
“I know about the Tyrells and Martells coming to Winterfell,” Lyarra said. “I also discovered that really strange change in this world, about the fourth Tyrell son, and both Lady Mormont and Prince Oberyn having a son, in addition to all their respective daughters? And they’re all twin brothers of girls who existed in our world!”  
  
“Yeah,” Eddard said, “I took notice of that particular pattern long ago myself. It is a strange one.”  
  
Lyarra shifted uncomfortably. “Sansa has a theory that you’re going to discuss a Betrothal for me with Victor Tyrell or Doryn Sand.”  
  
“When did she talk to you about this?” Eddard asked.  
  
“About an hour before breakfast,” Lyarra said. “Is it true?”  
  
“Not exactly,” Eddard said, “It is just odd timing that you and Sansa had the discussion. It was a topic that came up today between myself, Maester Luwin and Vayon Poole during our morning meeting. Lord Mace Tyrell is coming North with members of his House. Victor Tyrell and his sister, Margaery, are coming as well. Willas Tyrell remains in Highgarden to lord over the Reach, in Lord Mace’s stead during his time in the North. I wondered, at first, if Lord Tyrell was intending to discuss a Betrothal between Sansa and Willas Tyrell. If he was intending to do that, Willas would be coming here to get to know Sansa. But he is not. Instead Victor Tyrell, his youngest, is accompanying him. Victor is around your age, so I had a theory that either you or Sansa could be brought up for a Betrothal with him. However…”  
  
“Mace Tyrell isn’t about to Betroth his son to a girl he believes is a bastard,” Lyarra said, “However, Prince Oberyn would have no objections if he offered a Betrothal between me and his son.”  
  
“Yes,” Eddard said, “Although a possible interest from both the Tyrells and Martells, brings up a different scenario. If either Lord Tyrell or Prince Oberyn discovered who you truly were, they would likely offer Willas Tyrell or one of Prince Doran’s sons for a Betrothal with you.”  
  
“Is that something you were thinking about?” Lyarra said, “Telling them about my true identity?”  
  
“It would be completely up to you, Lyarra,” Eddard said. “However, know this: the Old Gods told me that you don’t need to be Queen of Westeros for the endgame we’re yearning for to succeed. You could be a Targaryen, a Snow, a legitimized Stark, or a married woman with your husband’s name, and it wouldn’t change the endgame very much.”  
  
“I don’t need to be Visenya Targaryen?” Lyarra asked.  
  
“No, you do not,” Eddard said. “Lyarra, I am not going to force you to get married, simply because I know that you aren’t completely Lyarra Snow. That at the moment, there is still much of Jon Snow in you. You have the mind of a young man who knows nothing about how to be a woman.”  
  
“However, it might help us greatly if I did decide to marry,” Lyarra said, “especially if my options were Doryn Sand or Victor Tyrell.”  
  
Eddard raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”  
  
“A marriage between me and House Tyrell or House Martell,” Lyarra said, “might allow us to convince them to bring either the army of the Reach or the army of Dorne to the Wall to help us against the Night King. If I remain Lyarra Snow, or a legitimized Lyarra Stark, you should probably Betroth me to Doryn Sand. So then, if the opportunity presented itself, you could Betroth Sansa to Victor Tyrell. Then you might still be able to convince both Lord Tyrell and Prince Oberyn that you would like their army’s assistance in return for their sons marrying your niece and daughter.  
  
“You should know that Sansa and I vaguely discussed this earlier, and Sansa _might_ be interested in such a Betrothal. She blushed when she mentioned the possibility of Victor Tyrell being her suitor. It is rather nice to see her infatuated with the idea of someone who isn’t a Prince, by the way.”  
  
Eddard laughed wryly. “It is indeed. So you would be open to this? You would marry Doryn Sand, if, in return, the armies of Dorne helped us fight the Night King?”  
  
“I know it surprises you, Uncle,” Lyarra said. “But yes, I would. Simply because of what such an arrangement would mean for the future when it comes to battle against the Night King. Of the major advantages we would have with even half of the Reach and Dorne’s armies helping us. When it comes to protecting the North, and our family and friends. I would marry Doryn Sand if doing so helped us in the future.”  
  
“You would have to lay with him and have his children,” Eddard said. “You know that, right?”  
  
Lyarra shifted uncomfortably. Yes, she was well aware that if she decided to through with these plans, she would have to lay with a man, be on the receiving end of intercourse -- in addition to other sexual things she’d have to do with a man as a woman. She was also well aware that she would likely -- no, _surely --_ end up pregnant -- probably more than once -- and have to deal with pregnancy and childbirth. Being a parent, even if she’d be a _mother_ instead of _father,_ did actually sound kind of nice though.  
  
“I am aware,” Lyarra said, after a few moments, “Believe me, I know why you’re skeptical about me suggesting this so quickly. I am aware of what I would be going through if I was married. If I was a _wife._ But… look, the Tyrells and Martells aren’t arriving for a while yet, right?”  
  
“They’ll likely be here by this time next moon,” Eddard said. “The Tyrell party have plans to remain at Riverrun while they wait for Lord Tyrell, and the Martell party to meet with them. So depending on how long they’re there will depend on how long it takes for them to get here, by a span of a few days or so. So we don’t have an accurate time of their arrival yet, but it will be less than a moon, likely.”  
  
“Well, then,” Lyarra said. “I have about a moon to get used to being Lyarra, and used to the idea of marrying a man, and everything that entails. Right now, I am okay with the idea, simply because of what it might mean for the future. I could always change my mind between now and then, right?”  
  
“I don’t intend to begin discussions of Betrothal -- whether it be for yours or Sansa’s hand -- until the Tyrells and Martells arrive,” Eddard said. “So, yes. You have until they arrive to change your mind. In fact, they’ll be here for about a moon before they leave for the Wall. So… I’ll give you a week when they arrive to get to know Doryn and see if he would be a worthy husband for you. So you have between now and a week after their arrival to change your mind, and get adjusted to being Lyarra Snow.”  
  
“That is plenty of time for me to prepare,” Lyarra said.

  
“I am so proud of you, Lyarra,” Eddard said, “Whether or not you’ll go through with this idea of yours. The fact that you’ve only been Lyarra for a couple hours now, and you’re already making important decisions that will affect your life -- especially as you would be doing something you’d never had done in your past life -- simply because of what it might mean for the future of the North, our family and Westeros. And doing so with good arguments, and good decisions. I am proud of that.”  
  
Lyarra blushed at the compliment. “Thank you, Uncle. I know I have a lot to do to get adjusted to being Lyarra. But I promise to do my best. Especially since I intend to do my part to make sure the endgame we’re working toward is successful.”  
  
“I’ll help you in any way I can,” Eddard said, “I mean it.”  
  
“I appreciate that,” Lyarra said. “What are your plans for the immediate future? Anything I can do to help?”  
  
“As I said before, there’s nothing you need to do right now except adjust to your new life, Lyarra,” Eddard said. “I have plenty of plans for the immediate future, much of which is already underway and being accomplished. One of the things I hope to happen soon, however, is finding the mother of your direwolf, Ghost, in the Wolfswood. I want to find her before she whelps and before she is killed. Convincing her to become my companion -- and letting her pups become companions to you and your cousins -- would do a lot of good for our family, and for the North.”  
  
“You’re hoping to find Ghost’s mother alive, and for her to become your companion?” Lyarra asked. “She’s pregnant, wild, and unpredictable. Uncle, that’s a little…”  
  
“It is mad, I agree,” Eddard conceded. “But as I said, it would do a lot of good. Having a mother direwolf of her size readily available to help us here in the North would go a long way. Especially since we’d have to wait several moons for her pups to grow to any size to be useful when it comes to defending you and your cousins.”  
  
“I am looking forward to seeing Ghost again,” Lyarra said, smiling.  
  
“I am sure,” Eddard said, with a smile. “Alright, there is something I wanted to ask you. Would you rather want to continue sparring and archery training while experiencing your… current condition? Or do you want this time off for now? The reason I ask is… it is possible -- _probable --_ you might have to deal with your condition whilst we’re at war with the Night King. You might be fighting while dealing with such a condition.”  
  
Lyarra raised an eyebrow. That was a good point. She pondered this, and came up with a decision.  
  
“I’ll take up Lady Catelyn and Ser Rodrik’s offer of taking a break from sparring this time,” Lyarra said. “Just so I can learn to deal with my… condition. The same thing will happen next moon, after all. So I can see if I can spar and do other physical things next moon when this happens again. The fact that the Tyrells and Martells would be here, and I could perhaps spar with the Sand Snakes, is something I can’t pass up, even when I have to deal with this… condition.”  
  
“A good decision,” Eddard agreed. “Take this time to learn about your new body, Lyarra. I suppose I should count myself fortunate that my gender and identity didn’t change when I was reincarnated.”  
  
“Funny,” Lyarra said, sarcastically. “Yes, I promise to do my best to learn how to get used to being in this body. It is my body for the rest of my life, after all. And I intend for it to be a _long_ life.”  
  
“Good,” Eddard said. “I’m very glad to hear that.”  
  
“And you, Uncle?” Lyarra asked, with an innocent, if sly, smile, “I trust you have no intentions on getting beheaded this time?”  
  
Eddard rolled his eyes. “I am doing my best to make sure I live long enough to see _all_ my children -- and my niece -- give me plenty of grandchildren to get to know and tell stories to, and teach them all about what it means to be a Direwolf of House Stark.”  
  
“Sounds wonderful to me,” Lyarra said. “After all, our words may be ‘Winter Is Coming’, but there is another saying of ours that I’ll never forget. The lone wolf dies…”  
  
“But the pack survives,” Eddard finished, then smirked, “And I intend to survive long enough to see my pack grow very large.”  
  
“I am glad to hear it,” Lyarra said. “I’ve missed you, Uncle. Very much so. We all did.”  
  
“I have missed you too,” Eddard said, with a smile. “And yes, not a day goes by I don’t think of the family I left behind in that world. I might have my family in the here and now… however, I have not forgotten what I left behind. I never will.”  
  
Uncle and niece traded smiles and the conversation paused as both remembered those they left behind.  
  
“Do you have other questions?” Eddard asked. “Anything you’d like to know about any changes that might have already been made?”  
  
“Has the Night’s Watch made any contact with the Free Folk?” Lyarra asked, “With Mance Rayder?”  
  
“Not yet,” Eddard said, shaking his head. “There have been a few run-ins with the Wild -- _Free Folk --_ that ended surprisingly peacefully. Sometimes harsh words might be said, but very few times has blood been spilt during the confrontations. And only then it is because of misunderstandings, or high tempers. When a Night’s Watchman attacks a Free Folk without due reason, they are punished for it. Not every man of Night’s Watch likes it, obviously especially some of those who were in the Night’s Watch before the changes and rules were made, but it is necessary to maintain peace between the Night’s Watch and the Free Folk, now and in the future.  
  
“But I know what you’re really asking. Mance Rayder and the large group of Free Folk he is gathering have not come in close proximity to Castle Black or any of the other castles. I believe it is because the castles are a lot better manned than they were in our past life. Mance Rayder is still waiting for the right time, to make his way to the Wall, and that hasn’t happened yet.”  
  
“And Mance Rayder hasn’t come to Winterfell under the cover of, say, being a bard, or something?” Lyarra asked. “He did that when King Robert and the royal party were here in our last life.”  
  
“I am aware of that,” Eddard said, “And no, I have not seen him, though I have asked Rodrik, Jory and Vayon to keep watch out for any mysterious bards or other folk coming to Winterfell or Winter Town.”  
  
Lyarra nodded. “Then it does seem as if he is waiting for the opportune moment. What about Craster? Has the Watch done anything about him?”  
  
“Yes, actually,” Eddard said, smiling, “The visions the Old Gods gave me, regarding you, showed me what that bastard was doing. I told Benjen about Craster, and he gave a story to Lord Commander Mormont about it. Mormont sent a ranging party out to Craster’s. They got the proof they needed about what he was doing with his sons, then executed the madman. That was about… oh, nearly five years ago now. Craster’s daughter-wives have since then joined other groups of Free Folk. The few reports I’ve had about them from Castle Black, is that they’re adjusting well with their new lives, and are quite happy to be free of Craster. Several of the older women have been married off to men of the Free Folk, or ‘stolen’, or whatever they call it, and have had more children. Craster’s Keep has since then been turned into a place for the Rangers to spend a night in if their journeys take them near it.”  
  
Lyarra nodded. She was a little sad that Gilly would never have her baby son that Samwell Tarly had adopted. She wondered… would Sam even meet Gilly this time? Would she already be ‘stolen’ by one of the Free Folk, before she even got to meet Sam?  
  
“Well that’s good news, for certain,” Lyarra said. “It will certainly lessen the Night King’s strength, since no more of Craster’s sons will be turned into White Walkers. The Night King will still be a threat, of course, but every little problem we give him helps.”  
  
“Indeed,” Eddard said.  
  
“Speaking of the Night King and White Walkers,” Lyarra said, “Do you have a supply of dragonglass yet?”  
  
“Yes, in fact,” Eddard said, “About three years ago, I started contacting Lord Stannis Baratheon about it. He asked me not one question about why I would want a large and steady supply of dragonglass. It isn’t a very valuable trade for anything outside of why we need it. He realized he wouldn’t get a better deal for it anywhere else, and we made a deal about it. We have several pounds of it now. Over the past couple of years, there’s been a great number of dragonglass weapons and arrowheads made. Thanks to the visions, I knew of one specific Smith in Westeros who had a skill in making things out of dragonglass…”  
  
“Gendry?” Lyarra interrupted, “Gendry Waters?”  
  
Eddard smirked. “Yes, I knew you knew who he was. Another thing I witnessed in the visions. Yes, I asked Benjen to contact Tobho Mott, and it was arranged for Gendry to come here. He works with Mikken, and has done well with the tasks he’s been given. A good supply of dragonglass weapons and arrowheads are available here, Castle Black, and other castles at the Wall.”  
  
Lyarra shifted uncomfortably. “In your visions, did you see how close Gendry and Arya were?”  
  
“I did,” Eddard said, nodding, “And I have been watching them to see if they could go on a similar path. They have struck a strange friendship up. Arya likes to visit Gendry while he works and talks with him. He wasn’t very happy with it at first, because she was a distraction, but he’s gotten used to her visits now. Mikken is my spy when it comes to Arya and Gendry’s friendship, and he has reported nothing untoward. Though Arya is just ten years old now, so I am sure if anything _does_ happen between the two of them, it wouldn’t happen for a few years.”  
  
Lyarra nodded and smiled. She was quite surprised that Gendry was in Winterfell, but she was also happy. Especially since, if history did repeat itself in some ways, there might be a purge of King Robert’s bastards in King’s Landing, and she didn’t want Gendry anywhere near King’s Landing if that ever came to pass. Besides, she was kind of interested to see where Arya and Gendry wound up, relationship-wise. She thought of a question regarding that topic.  
  
“Does your wife know about what happened between them in our past life?” Lyarra asked.  
  
“She does not, actually,” Eddard said. “It wasn’t something I saw as important to tell her about. She does know about the friendship between Arya and Gendry, and while she has voiced her disapproval of such friendship to me in the past, she only ever discussed it with me. It is the same way she deals with yours and Sansa’s relationship -- she ignores it. Like myself, I believe she’s just content with watching them for now, and seeing what happens in the next few years. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if, sooner or later, she wants me to arrange a Betrothal with Arya and a son of the North.”  
  
Lyarra snorted. “Arya wouldn’t want to be placed in a Betrothal, Uncle. If you arrange one for her, she’s going to rebel, and probably end up doing something with Gendry out of pure spite towards you and her mother. If not Gendry, then another boy. Though my gold is on Gendry.”  
  
Eddard grimaced. “Yes, such a thought has occurred to me. Which is why I am glad I don’t have to deal with such a thing for a couple more years.”  
  
Lyarra laughed softly, shaking her head. Then another question came to the forefront of her mind.

“Any word on my Aunt and Uncle in Essos?” Lyarra asked.  
  
“Yes, about that,” Eddard said. “Do you remember Jorah Mormont?”  
  
“Yes,” Lyarra said, “I got to know him. He and Gendry both went with me on that ‘suicide mission’, as you called it. If I remember correctly, he’s currently spying on Daenerys and Viserys for King Robert, right?”  
  
“He is,” Eddard said, “But he is also spying on them for me, in return for a Northern pardon for his crimes. Oh, he’ll never be the Lord of Bear Island again, but he might, in time, be welcomed back in the North if he does his job well. Anyway, as far as I can tell, your Aunt and Uncle’s journey hasn’t changed at all from our previous lives as of yet. They’re currently staying with Illyrio Mopatis.”  
  
“So, Daenerys might still end up married to Khal Drogo?” Lyarra asked.  
  
“Yes,” Eddard said. “It is likely.”  
  
“Good,” Lyarra said, “Her wedding to Drogo is when she receives her Dragon Eggs, and her journey with Khal Drogo ends with the Dragons hatching. We may need those Dragons still for the war against the Night King.”  
  
Eddard grimaced, but nodded. “When I write to Jorah next, I’ll tell him not to interfere in any way if Daenerys ends up having to marry Khal Drogo. Only that he needs to continue keeping an eye on her and her brother.”  
  
“You should know,” Lyarra said, “Daenerys called you ‘Usurper’s Dog’, before she learned how you reacted to Elia, Aegon and Rhaenys’ deaths. She also learned that you tried to stop King Robert from killing her and her brother. That softened her anger towards you after that. I don’t know if not being available to prevent King Robert from trying to assassinate them would change the way she currently sees you, or if your reactions to Elia and her children’s deaths will be enough. In fact, if she learns you hired Jorah to spy on her and her brother…”  
  
Eddard nodded grimly. “I suppose if I ever meet her, I’ll just have to cope with whatever she thinks about me, and hope that I can convince her I do not wish her any harm. Do you believe there is any way to prevent her from becoming that Mad Queen who set her dragon on King’s Landing?”  
  
“It was the deaths of two of her dragons, and some of her closest friends, all in a very short time, that set her off, i think,” Lyarra said, “Don’t get me wrong, there’s probably madness in her -- I think it is just deep inside her right now, and she can ignore it. It just needed a perfect spark to rise to the surface. Missandei’s murder by Cersei Lannister’s order was the spark that created the fire, literally. She just had too much happen to her all at once. Yes, it is possible to prevent that. But unless she comes here, and meets us personally, I don’t want to think about her. Thinking of her hurts too much.”  
  
“I understand,” Eddard said, solemnly, “Do you want to be kept updated on Jorah’s information he gives me in the future about her?”  
  
“Yes,” Lyarra said, “But that is all I want regarding her, until she literally is too close to me, for me to ignore her.”

“Very well,” Eddard said, nodding, “Any more questions?”  
  
“One final question,” Lyarra said, “Do you know if there are any other Travelers, like us, out there?”  
  
“No,” Eddard said, with a shake of his head, “The Old Gods are being particularly, stubbornly, quiet about that. As far as I know, there _are_ more out there, or at least there _will_ be. But I have not identified anyone who has been behaving differently than I expect them to. I do have your Uncle Benjen working on that endeavour. I firmly believe the other Travelers will be major players in Westeros, and not just some simple farmer, maid or whore in a brothel. Benjen is keeping me informed of the happenings of all the major players. Each bit of information I get from him about them, I carefully investigate, to see if I can find any changes yet, any differences in their behavior, or any strange, out of the blue, plans they have.  
  
“So far, I haven’t found any signs yet. The Martells and Tyrells traveling here and to the Wall, is nothing out of the blue, of course. It is due to the changes that have been made at the Wall over the years. They’re just interested in the changes, and they aren’t the first highborn families to come from the South and tour the Wall, and certainly won’t be the last.”  
  
“Well, if they are out there,” Lyarra said, “They probably came here around the same timeframe of when they died in our past life. A lot of people -- even major players -- died during the Battle in King’s Landing, on the same day I did. So they could have arrived today. Or… any time in the last few moons, since there were a lot of deaths before and after we defeated the Night King.”  
  
Eddard took out some writing material from his desk, and pushed it toward Lyarra. “Do me a favor. Write a list of names of those major players who died in the last few moons in your time. Whether they were allies, enemies, or in between. I will investigate these people closely.”  
  
“I’ll also add the names of people who were there during the Battle of King’s Landing,” Lyarra said, taking the writing material, “since I don’t know if they died or not, as I died before I could get any reports like that. There was a lot of death during that Battle.”  
  
Ned nodded. For the next few minutes, Lyarra proceeded to write down all the names of people she thought were ‘major players’ or close enough, who died, and those who were involved in that last battle who might have died.  
  
Then another thought came to her. “I’ll add those who are also alive that I know of. Who knows what happened in the aftermath of my death. Arya and Sansa, and our surviving allies, might have tried to avenge my death, which could have sparked another war, with the Unsullied, and those in Daenerys’ army who were still alive. So I’ll add names for those we might expect over the next few moons as well.”  
  
“While I hope there was peace in the old Westeros, even after your death,” Eddard said, “I’d be a fool not to agree with your theory. I believe it is a necessity to add those names to the list. Thank you for thinking of such a thing.”  
  
Lyarra nodded. She finished up the list, and returned it and the writing material to her Uncle.  
  
“Thank you,” Eddard said, again, “I’ll decide what to do with these names. Benjen is coming to Winterfell soon -- either before the Tyrells and Martells arrive, or possibly he is joining their traveling party. It will be Benjen who seeks out these people, and speaks to them. Well, either him, or someone in his circle. So I’m afraid I will have to wait to start any serious investigations against these names -- especially those not associated with the North -- until he returns. For now, I’ll focus on those who are currently closer to home.”  
  
“Including Sansa, Arya, and Bran,” Lyarra said, “They were alive when I was killed. I’d hate to think they could soon die in that world. But… wouldn’t it just be like the Old Gods to bring another family member from that world to us? Sure, they would be a great help, but it would also make it rather complicated to keep our circumstances a secret from those who shouldn’t know. The Old Gods might find some humor in that.”  
  
Eddard nodded, grimly, as he gazed at the names on the list. “I’ll keep an eye on them. Oh, and Theon, as he is listed here too.”  
  
“Theon died moons ago, during the battle with the Night King,” Lyarra said. “He was killed by the Night King, in fact, just before Arya killed the fiend. He was one of the last to die, maybe the last, in the actual battle, though we lost a few more due to injuries suffered. So unless he is a great actor, I don’t think he is a Traveler. Besides, if he was, don’t you think he might… I don’t know… run away from Winterfell? The old Theon was a tortured soul, because of what happened to him. He was quiet, distant, and very much unlike his former self. I think he would be seeing a lot of ghosts, and old memories, if he found himself back here in the past. He would not act like the Theon I remembered of my childhood. He only said a few words to me, but he reminds me of the Theon from the days before King Robert visited Winterfell. Actually, I’m surprised he didn’t flirt with me.”  
  
“Quite right,” Eddard agreed. “Yes, he would have to be a great actor to be like us. Oh, and don’t worry about him flirting with you. He tried that with the old Lyarra, and found himself on his back with two black eyes, and a bloody nose.”  
  
“She punched him?” Lyarra asked.  
  
Eddard grinned and shook his head. “Robb did. This was about three years ago. Then he lectured Theon and told him she was off limits to his flirting. He has left Lyarra alone, in that sense, ever since. Oh, he still taunts her, but that is just because they are rivals when it comes to sparring and archery. Theon is pretty intimidated by her, due to how talented she is. I have a feeling if you brought your skills as a warrior with you into this life, he will become even more intimidated by you.”  
  
“Yes, I believe so,” Lyarra said, grinning.  
  
“Careful, niece,” Eddard warned, “You still need to adjust to your new body, before you get too cocky about fighting with swords. Compared to your old body, you’re shorter, have less of a reach with your arms, weigh less, move differently, and likely can’t lift as much weight as you could before. These are all factors that will throw you off when it comes to fighting. Do remember that, Lyarra.”  
  
Lyarra frowned and nodded. She knew her Uncle was quite right. She would have to adjust to the many differences her new body had.  
  
“Well, I hope muscle memory will play a big part when it comes to sparring,” she said, “Else I would have to learn what to do all over again, and that would surely cause people to notice -- such as Robb, Theon and Ser Rodrik, for starters.”  
  
Ned rubbed his beard and nodded. “How about this? Tomorrow afternoon, we’ll take a ride outside of Winterfell, and head off to a spot I know nearby. You can practice sparring with me, and see just how much adaptation you need to adjust to.”

Lyarra nodded. “I like that idea.”  
  
“Good,” Eddard said, “Oh, right. Lyarra has a different horse than Jon did. You’ll need to familiarize yourself with her too before we ride tomorrow.”  
  
“Right,” Lyarra said, “I’ll find some time today to go out and meet her, and spend some time with her.”  
  
“A fine idea,” Eddard agreed, “Well, unless you have any more questions, I believe this meeting is done for now.”  
  
“No more questions for now,” Lyarra said, “If I think of any more, I’ll ask you during our ride tomorrow.”  
  
“Aye, a fine idea,” Eddard said, nodding. “Well, then, you are excused. I wish you good fortune when it comes to adjusting yourself more to your new body today.”  
  
Lyarra grimaced. “Thanks. Farewell for now.”  
  
Eddard replied in kind, and stood up. Lyarra stood, as well. After her Uncle unbarred the door, Lyarra left the Solar and headed off to search for Sansa. She knew her cousin would be waiting for her, so they could work on the new dresses Sansa had planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter finished! A lot happened in this chapter, though the discussion was less eventful and a little shorter than I thought it would be. There are some changes Eddard didn’t mention to Lyarra, but either she’ll notice such things herself, or learn about them later. What did you think about the conversation?
> 
> Gendry wasn’t in my original plans to be at Winterfell this early, but I needed a Smith who was good with dragonglass, and decided Ned would have picked him. Arya and Gendry’s relationship is just friendship for now… if it does turn romantic (which is my current idea, as you can tell by one of the Relationships tags) it won’t do so for quite a while. Arya’s much too young at the moment, even for ASOIAF standards!
> 
> Next Chapter: A new PoV again… and guess what?! It is one of the mysterious other Travelers! Who will it be? Find out next chapter!


	5. Jaime I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Looks at Chapter title* Huh? What’s this? Jaime is a Traveler! Who could have predicted that?! That was a bit of sarcasm. I am sure some of you wanted Jaime to be one of them! He’s one of my favorites when it comes to Fix-It and redemption involving Time Travel stories.
> 
> This chapter begins the same morning around the same time Lyarra and Ned woke up.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Nudity; Brothels; Sexual Situations

  
**Jaime  
  
** The last thing Jaime Lannister remembered was embracing his twin sister, Cersei, in a tunnel underneath the Red Keep, before the ceiling above them started to collapse above their heads. He then remembered sharp shards of pain, Cersei screaming, and then nothing but a black darkness.   
  
The next thing he knew, he found himself lying on his back on what felt like a soft cushion. He opened his eyes and found himself staring at a decorative ceiling. He sat up, expecting to feel pain from being buried under a pile of rubble of stone, but felt no pain at all. He found he was sitting on marble flooring, which should not have felt as soft as it did. As he looked around, he found he was in a familiar place: the Sept at Casterly Rock.  
  
 _Am I dead?_ Jaime wondered, _Is this the afterlife? How could the Sept of Casterly Rock be in the Seven Hells?_   
  
Suddenly, Jaime heard a noise behind him, and he immediately hurried to a standing position. He reached for his sword, but found that, while he was wearing the same armor he had been in at the moment of his death, he no longer had his sword. He also realized at that very moment that he had _both_ of his hands. Jaime stared at the hand he had lost, for several moments, before he remembered he had heard a sound coming from somewhere. He snapped his attention back toward the direction of the sound, and found it was coming from the area near the statues of the Seven, the New Gods.   
  
Suddenly, a smoky black figure appeared, floating out of the statue of the Stranger, causing Jaime to back away a few steps involuntarily. Then the figure turned into a human replica of the Stranger’s statue.  
  
 _By the Seven, it is the Stranger!_ Jaime realized.  
  
Jaime stammered, then fell to one knee, in front of the God.   
  
“I humbly kneel before you, Great Stranger,” Jaime asked, bowing his head and looking at the ground. “Tell me true, I beseech you. Am I dead?”  
  
“Yes… and no,” the Stranger rasped.  
  
Jaime looked up at the God. “I am sorry, Great Stranger. But I don’t understand.”  
  
“You are dead in the world you know,” the Stranger said. “However, I am here to offer you a second chance. A chance at a new life in a new world. A much changed world. Not a rebirth, because your life would not start over from birth. But a reincarnation, into the counterpart of yourself in that world, in the year 297 AC.”  
  
Jaime swallowed. “The year Jon Arryn was murdered and everything started going to pot. Is Jon Arryn still alive?”  
  
“Indeed, he is,” the Stranger said.  
  
“I suppose it is up to me to save the old fool’s life,” Jaime muttered.  
  
“Whether that is true or not is yet to be seen,” the Stranger said, “However, Jon Arryn will not die as he did in your world. His death has already been prevented by another player. Another Traveler, who like you, was reincarnated long before you will arrive.”  
  
Jaime’s eyes widened. He wouldn’t be alone? “Who? Who is this other Traveler?”  
  
“I cannot tell you,” the Stranger said, “What I can tell you is this: it was the Old Gods of the North who brought him back.”  
  
 _Eddard Stark,_ Jaime guessed, _It has to be. Reincarnated long ago by the Old Gods, probably years ago, when he died in my world. Which means he probably has been in this world for years now. How long has it been since Joffrey ordered him beheaded? Six years perhaps? Six years in this new world. It has to be him. Who else would know that Jon Arryn’s life needed to be saved? Who else would care enough to save the old man? Definitely Eddard Stark._ _  
_ _  
_“I can probably guess who it is just by the hint you have given me,” Jaime said. “So what _is_ my purpose? Why are you giving me this opportunity, Great Stranger?”  
  
“You played a key part in your old life in the war against the Night King,” the Stranger said, “You will once again play a key part in the same war. Between yourself, and the other Travelers, you might be able to stop the Night King before the Battle for the New Dawn even begins to wreak havoc on the North and Westeros itself!”  
  
 _Travelers, plural?_ Jaime noted, _There are more than just Eddard and I? Are they already in this new world? Or will they arrive after me? Focus, Lannister, the Stranger is talking about you once again helping to save Westeros from the Night King. Focus!_ _  
_ _  
_“I did play a part,” Jaime muttered, “I wouldn’t call it a _key_ part, exactly.”  
  
“You were more important than you know,” the Stranger said, “And you will play an important part this time as well.”  
  
“What do I need to do first?” Jaime asked.  
  
“That is up to you, child,” the Stranger said. “I will not help you beyond the gifts I have already decided to give you,”  
  
“Gifts?” Jaime echoed.  
  
“You will receive your counterpart’s old memories,” the Stranger said, “and the ability to search those memories at will for a specific moment in time for an important piece of information you need. You see, child, this world you will be joining is quite different in some aspects, and not just because of what other Travelers have done or will do. There are aspects in this new world that are different from your old world, and the Travelers have no influence in these changes. The new changes surprise even them, as I am sure they will surprise you.”  
  
 _I suppose I’ll figure out these changes sooner or later,_ Jaime mused.  
  
“You will also receive the muscle memories of your counterpart,” the Stranger continued. “He has yet to lose a hand, so he is unhindered like you were. It will be similar to the way you were before you lost your hand.”  
  
 _Well, that is a relief,_ Jaime said, as he once again looked at the hand he hadn’t seen in years, _Still, I wonder if it will feel strange to use this hand again._

“What will happen to my counterpart?” Jaime asked, “What happens when I replace him?”   
  
“If we did not intervene,” the Stranger said, “Your counterpart would have been attacked in an ambush while escorting King Robert through King’s Landing. He would have been overwhelmed and killed. If you become him, this ambush will not take place. We will make sure of it.”   
  
_ Well, that’s depressing,  _ Jaime mused.    
  
“I suppose I am saving his life then,” Jaime said. “Well, you get no argument from me, Great Stranger. I am willing to play this little game of yours.”   
  
“Then go, Jaime Lannister,” the Stranger said. “Oh, and by the way, I will be seeing you again soon enough.”   
  
Jaime was startled by that. What did the Stranger mean? Was he going to die again soon? Or did the Stranger mean he would simply speak to him in a dream? It had to be the latter… right?!   
  
Before Jaime could ask what the God meant, he was blinded by a bright white light, and felt himself collapse.   
  
Moments later, when he gained control of his body again, Jaime awoke again, sitting up almost immediately and looked around. He immediately recognized where he was. He was in his old quarters in the White Sword Tower, the residence where the Kingsguard lived and slept. His old  _ old  _ quarters, the one he had  _ before  _ he became Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. He found that he was currently in his small clothes, which he usually slept in when he would sleep in his quarters.    
  
_ I chose not to sleep in the nude,  _ Jaime mused,  _ because the first time I did when I was not spending the night in Cersei’s bed, I woke up thinking I was. So sleeping in small clothes when I’m not with Cersei kept my mind clear. It seems this Jaime is the same way. Nice to know that some things stay the same. _ _   
_ _   
_ Jaime rolled out of bed, and began to get dressed. He found his Kingsguard armor in the same exact place he would put it in his old life. Once again, another similarity between him and his counterpart. Unsurprisingly, he also found his sword -- his  _ old  _ sword, which was good, but nothing like Widow’s Wail -- in the same place he would have placed it in his old life. Technically Widow’s Wail didn’t exist at the moment. It was still part of Eddard Stark’s sword, Ice.    
  
_ If I do not find one of these new so-called “changes” soon that the Stranger mentioned,  _ Jaime mused,  _ I am going to start thinking I ended up in my younger body in my old life.  _ _   
_ _   
_ He picked up the scabbard with his old sword, and realized he had picked it up with the hand he had been using after his good hand was cut off. He grimaced, realizing he was going to have to remember that he had his good hand back, and he needed to get used to  _ using  _ it again!

He sighed and left his quarters, then walked down the corridor to the stairwell, and headed to the main floor of the Tower.   
  
_If I began using my off-hand instead of my good hand,_ Jaime fretted, as he walked down the stairs, _Someone is going to take notice and ask questions I don’t want to answer. Like Cersei. Or King Robert. Or… Ser Barristan!_ _  
_ _  
_He only thought about the last name because he saw the man in question standing near a table used by the Kingsguard for meals. Ser Barristan Selmy was not eating breakfast, but instead looking down at a sheet of paper. He looked up at Jaime and raised his eyebrow.  
  
“Do you need something, Lannister?” Ser Barristan asked.  
  
“No, Ser Barristan,” Jaime said.   
  
“Well, you were staring at me like a green boy seeing a nude woman for the first time,” Ser Barristan said.  
  
Jaime had indeed been staring at the man, because he hadn’t seen the man in years. In fact, he had learned from Tyrion that Ser Barristan had died in Essos, while under the service of Daenerys Targaryen.   
  
“It is good you’re here, Lannister,” Ser Barristan said, before Jaime could give an excuse or apology, “You’re on duty with his Grace today. Better go and meet with the King as soon as possible. The morning session of the Small Council will begin soon, and it seems King Robert will be attending the meeting again. I will see you soon, as I’ll be present during the meeting as Lord Commander, of course.”  
  
 _King Robert is attending Small Council meetings?_ Jaime wondered, _Since when? Also, since when does the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard attend Council meetings, outside of being on guard duty for his Grace?_ _  
_ _  
_“I will go find the King then,” Jaime said.  
  
He turned and left the White Sword Tower. As he started off through the corridors of the Red Keep, toward King Robert’s personal office, on a path that was somehow still familiar to him. He recalled what the Stranger had told him about the ability to peruse his counterpart’s old memories. He decided to test the ability and search for King Robert’s apparent desire of late to Small Council meetings. He found that the King had indeed attended a number of meetings recently.   
  
_This is different,_ Jaime mused, _This is a change from my old life. One of those changes the Stranger alluded to. I suppose that confirms that I am in this strange new world._ _  
_ _  
_Soon, Jaime found himself approaching King Robert’s office. He recognized a fellow Kingsguard, Ser Mandon Moore, standing outside the door.  
  
“Lannister,” Moore greeted him.  
  
“Moore,” Jaime said, “I’m your replacement.”  
  
Moore nodded his head once, then left without another word. Jaime stood in the same position near the door that Moore had just been at. After roughly a minute, Jaime was trying to figure out what was strange about this scenario. Then he realized the answer. There was no ruckus loud enough for him to hear, going on in the office, on the other side of the door he was guarding. No laughing or loud talking from Robert, no noises from one or more whores, whether it be laughing or noises of passion, that Jaime recalled was a frequent pastime he had to put up with in his old life. In fact, he couldn’t hear _anything_. For a moment, Jaime wondered whether Robert was not in the room -- though why would Moore guard the room if the King was not there? Then he wondered if the King was dead in his office.   
  
Jaime turned to the door, and rapped his knuckles -- once again using his off-hand, he belatedly realized -- on the wooden surface.  
  
“What do you want, Moore?!” King Robert’s loud voice barked out.  
  
 _Well, at least he isn’t dead,_ Jaime mused. _Ser Barristan would likely blame me in some way if he was. I am the Kingslayer, after all. Why stop at one King?_  
  
Jaime opened the door slightly ajar. “It is Ser Jaime, your Grace. Are you still attending the Small Council meeting this morning? It is starting soon, I believe.”  
  
“Of course, I’m attending the meeting!” King Robert bellowed, “I’ve attended at least one a day all week, haven’t I? You know that, Lannister, you were watching my back during at least two of the meetings! Is it starting soon? Alright, I’m coming, I’m coming!”  
  
Jaime backed away, and waited as the door opened and King Robert Baratheon, looking just as Jaime remembered him, stepped out of the room.   
  
“Let’s get going then,” King Robert grunted.  
  
Jaime stepped to the side, and King Robert walked forward, while Jaime followed him on the journey to the council chamber.   
  
“Do you know if your sister is going to be there, Lannister?” King Robert asked.  
  
“I do not, your Grace,” Jaime said. “I have not seen her this morning. I woke up, and met Ser Barristan, who told me I was assigned to you this morning, and I came straight to your office.”  
  
The King grunted. “I suppose we’ll see when we get there. Or when -- if -- she does. Not even the Seven can predict whether or not she’ll arrive before me or not! If she is there, she’s likely sitting in my chair! Once again, she mocks me!”  
  
Nothing more was said from the King, so Jaime remained silent. In his old life, he might have defended Cersei’s honor in such a moment. But he had far more important tasks ahead of him, than to deal with his mad sister. He died once here in King’s Landing, in Cersei’s arms. He wasn’t going to do it again. The only reason he had come back to her was… well, he didn’t want to think about the real reason he had come back. Not right now. Not here in this seven-damned place! And definitely not with _her_ in close proximity.  
  
 _The sooner I can figure out how to leave King’s Landing,_ Jaime thought, _and head North to Winterfell, so I can speak to Eddard Stark about this Traveler business, and what he’s been up to since he lost his head, the better! If I can leave soon without having to deal with Cersei too much, it would be a blessing!_  
  
A few minutes later, they arrived at the council chamber. Jaime’s gaze immediately went toward the Small Council table and found that King Robert was the last to arrive. Cersei was indeed there, and as King Robert had suspected, she was sitting at the head of the table where the King was supposed to sit when he was present for the meetings. The other Council members -- Lord Jon Arryn, looking surprisingly hale and healthy, Stannis and Renly Baratheon, Varys, Petyr Baelish, and Grand Maester Pycelle -- stood up as soon as King Robert had entered the room.  
  
Jaime then saw Ser Barristan standing against a wall near the table, instead of sitting at the table. So perhaps being Lord Commander didn’t mean he had a position at the Small Council table, as Jaime had thought. Perhaps it just meant he had permission to attend the meetings, in case his input was needed in some way? Jaime moved to join the older knight, and stood at the man’s right side. Ser Barristan nodded at him in greeting, and Jaime echoed the gesture.  
  
He then turned and smirked when he saw King Robert stand before Cersei, and glare at her. Cersei cleared her throat, and stood up from the chair. She had been the only one who had remained seated when King Robert had arrived, a clear sign of disrespect that even the simple-minded would have caught onto. King Robert sat down in his chair, and Cersei sat down in the one to King Robert’s left. Jon Arryn sat down at the right side of the King, and then the other members of the Council proceeded to sit down.   
  
Cersei turned her head to look at Jaime, however Jaime kept his eyes on King Robert, as was his duty when was on assignment as the King’s assigned guard. A small, barely noticeable smirk appeared on Jaime’s face, when he heard Cersei huff in annoyance at the fact that he hadn’t paid her any notice.   
  
“Well, what are you waiting for?!” Robert demanded. “Begin! I want to hear more interesting news and I hope it is just as interesting as the news I’ve been hearing recently during these meetings! Do not waste my time! I haven’t had breakfast yet. I’m eating after this meeting, so don’t make me wait too long! Varys! You first! You always have the most interesting stories to tell me!”  
  
“Of course, your Grace, I am honored to speak first,” Varys simpered. “News from the Reach I found most interesting. Lord Mace Tyrell has left the comforts of Highgarden, and has gone to join his mother, the Lady Olenna, and two youngest children -- the twins, Victor and Margaery -- along with those accompanying House Tyrell on their journey North to Winterfell and the Wall. Willas Tyrell has remained behind at Highgarden in his Lord Father’s stead to do his father’s duties. I believe the Tyrell party plan to arrive at Riverrun soon, and remain there for a few days, while they wait for Lord Tyrell to join their party.  
  
“As you already know, the Martells are also going North to Winterfell and the Wall. I hear they, too, will meet the Tyrell party at Riverrun, and then the entire party will leave for Winterfell. My little birds tell me Prince Oberyn has brought along his paramour, and all his daughters and only son, on the journey North.  
  
“So, in my calculations, depending on how long they remain in Riverrun, the Tyrells and Martells should be in Winterfell in less than a moon.”  
  
Jaime blinked. _What in the Seven Hells? I don’t know where to begin. Mace Tyrell has a fourth son, who is a twin to Margaery Tyrell? Prince Oberyn Martell has a son to go along with all his daughters? Since when?! And what is this about the Tyrells and Martells heading to Winterfell and the Wall?! What is so important about the Wall and the Night’s Watch that the Tyrells and Martells are visiting? The Martells probably are travelling the entire span of Westeros for this journey. For what reason? What is different at the Wall in this world? The Battle for the New Dawn hasn’t started already, has it? No… if it had, I would likely be in the North with Robert right now, and not here. Robert wouldn’t miss such a battle if he was alive to see it! So what in the Seven Hells is happening up there?!_ _  
_ _  
_“Mace Tyrell is heading to Winterfell?” Robert asked.  
  
“Yes, your Grace,” Varys said, “And the Wall.”  
  
Robert snorted. “Mace Tyrell does not sound like somebody who would just decide to tour the Wall. Perhaps the old Mace I once knew might have done so. But not the current Mace Tyrell. He only does something when he gets something in return, or because his mother has told him to do it. I tell you this, I don’t know if this is his idea, or his mother’s, but he only wants us to believe the journey to the Wall is his main reason for going North. No, his main reason is his visit to Winterfell. This is about a Betrothal!”  
  
“Betrothal, your Grace?” Jon Arryn asked.  
  
“Mace either wants to Betroth his daughter to Ned’s Heir,” Robert said, “Or he wants to offer his youngest son to Ned’s eldest daughter.”  
  
“Come on, Robert!” Cersei laughed. “You must be jesting! Mace wouldn’t offer a betrothal between any of his sons and Ned’s bastard daughter!”  
  
Jaime blinked. _Ned’s bastard daughter?! He has a bastard daughter too? Does Jon Snow have a twin like Margaery Tyrell? Unless… is Jon Snow a girl in this world?! What in the Seven Hells is this? Another change?!_ _  
_ _  
_“Clearly, I meant his eldest _trueborn_ daughter,” Robert said, in annoyance. “What’s her name? Ned’s oldest girl who is said to look like her mother.”  
  
“Sansa Stark, Your Grace,” Littlefinger said.  
  
Jaime scoffed, and ignored Ser Barristan’s light cough to order him silent. _Of course Littlefinger would know Sansa’s name. If he can’t have Catelyn, then he wants her daughter. Of course, he’s likely still plotting ways to get Catelyn. I imagine Eddard Stark, if he is the other Traveler, is well-prepared to counter any plots Littlefinger has toward him. I’m surprised Littlefinger is still alive, if Eddard is the other Traveler. Wasn’t Littlefinger partially responsible for getting Eddard imprisoned, leading to his beheading? If I was Eddard, I’d have probably killed the man myself long ago, if I had been in this new world for six years already._ _  
_ _  
_“Sansa, yes!” Robert said. “Damned it all! I was planning on offering a Betrothal between Joffrey and Sansa Stark! I should write a letter to Ned, and beat Tyrell to the offer first!”  
  
“Your Grace, such things are usually done face-to-face,” Jon Arryn said. “It is only proper. Ned would be most put out with you if you sent him a letter with such an offer. He would think you are dishonoring him, whether you are the King or not.”   
  
“Well, if I went to do it face-to-face, Tyrell would reach Eddard first, would he not?!” Robert argued.   
  
“Perhaps we should just find someone else for Joffrey,” Cersei said. “It seems Lord Tyrell has beat us to the punch.”  
  
“Beat _me_ you mean,” Robert growled. “I know you don’t want Ned’s daughter to marry Joffrey.”  
  
“Well, maybe it just wasn’t meant to be,” Cersei said, with a smile that Jaime could immediately tell was false, even if he didn’t know her as well as he did.  
  
Well, perhaps he didn’t know _this_ Cersei, but from what he had seen, she wasn’t very different from the sister he knew. The sister who had died with him under the Red Keep.  
  
 _You don’t know how true that is, sister,_ Jaime mused. _I wonder how you’d react if I told you the name of Sansa Stark’s first husband in my old life… the marriage wasn’t consummated, but they were still married, in front of the New Gods, so it was official, if only technically._  
  
“If it helps, your Grace,” Varys said, “My little Northern birds tell me Lord Eddard already has one or two girls lined up for his Heir’s hand. The leading candidate is Lord Manderly’s granddaughter, Wynafryd.”  
  
“There, you see!” Cersei said, smiling. “Margaery Tyrell won’t be matched with Lord Stark’s son, so she will be available for Joffrey. Maybe we can summon Lord Tyrell when he returns from the North, and we can discuss a match between his daughter and Joffrey. If he successfully makes a match between his youngest son and Lord Stark’s daughter, we can personally offer our congratulations.”  
  
 _Well, this is surprising, sister,_ Jaime said. _Are you so against Robert’s preferred bride for Joffrey that you would actually choose Margaery Tyrell instead? You will not like her, sister. I promise you that! She’s everything you fear, when it comes to that Prophecy you're obsessed with._ _  
_ _  
_“Keep me updated on what happens between Ned and Mace Tyrell, Varys,” Robert said. “I want to know the moment you know whether or not Ned has promised his daughter to Lord Mace’s son!”  
  
“Of course, Your Grace,” Varys simpered. “I will keep an eye and ear dedicated to the North from this moment forth, in addition to my little birds nesting there!”  
  
“Good!” Robert said, “Any more news? Any word from Jorah Mormont about the Dragonspawn in Essos?”  
  
“Nothing more than what he told us last time,” Varys said, “They’re still with Illyrio Mopatis. He has heard no word of any plotting from Viserys Targaryen, his sister or Illyrio Mopatis. And neither has my little birds over there, who are there, of course, to keep Jorah Mormont honest.”  
  
“Fine,” Robert muttered. “Stannis. Any news?”  
  
“What is the name of Lord Eddard Stark’s bastard daughter?” Jaime asked Ser Barristan quietly, ignoring what was now going on at the Small Council table, “Do you remember? I cannot seem to recall it.”  
  
“Lyarra, after Lord Stark’s mother, I think,” Ser Barristan said, still watching the Council meeting.  
  
“Any word on what she looks like?” Jaime asked.  
  
“No,” Ser Barristan said, turning his attention to Jaime, “Why the sudden interest?”  
  
“I’m just curious,” Jaime said, “I wondered if she looked like her mother. Maybe we could get a clue as to who Lord Eddard Stark betrayed his honor for.”  
  
 _Does she look like Lyanna Stark?_ Jaime wondered, _Because if she does, that might cause rumors to start that might point to the truth of who her real parents are! Not to mention, if Robert ever lays eyes on her for a completely different reason. I wonder, if Ned is the other Traveler the Stranger mentioned, how he must feel having a niece instead of a nephew in this life. I have to wonder what the girl is going to do in this life. She obviously can’t join the Night’s Watch._ _  
_ _  
_“Well, I haven’t heard any details on her looks,” Ser Barristan said.  
  
“Hopefully she doesn’t look too much like her Aunt Lyanna,” Jaime said, deciding to be bold in front of Barristan the Bold himself. “I’d hate to see her and King Robert meet if she does look like Lyanna Stark. Who knows what his Grace would do, seeing a ghost of his dear Lyanna?”  
  
“Probably not a subject you should speak of in his Grace’s presence,” Ser Barristan stated. “Even if he cannot hear it being spoken. Or your sister’s, for that matter. We both know she doesn’t react kindly to that name.”  
  
“No, I don’t need to be reminded of that,” Jaime said. “Thank you very much.”  
  
“If it were your choice, as Joffrey’s Uncle,” Ser Barristan said, “Who would you wish would be his future wife? Any preferences?”  
  
“The only thing I wish when it comes to Joffrey’s future wife, is wishing her luck,” Jaime muttered. “Because I fear she would be another Queen Rhaella.”  
  
“Really now, Lannister,” Ser Barristan said, in surprise, “Where did that come from?”  
  
“Do you disagree, Ser Barristan?” Jaime asked. “Don’t tell me you are ignorant of the good Prince’s behavior? Do you think he’d be any different to his wife?”  
  
“You have a shockingly low opinion of your nephew,” Ser Barristan said.  
  
 _Son, not nephew, as much as I wish it wasn’t true,_ Jaime sighed, _And I notice you didn’t answer my question._ _  
_ _  
_Jaime didn’t respond to Ser Barristan’s comment, and the older Knight didn’t say another word. So the conversation ended there, and the two Kingsguard returned to their silent watch. The rest of the Small Council meeting wasn’t as eventful as the first few minutes had been. When it was finished, the King stood up.  
  
“You’re dismissed for now, Lannister,” Robert barked across the room to Jaime, “Ser Barristan can accompany me as I go find some breakfast.”  
  
“I would be honored, your Grace,” Ser Barristan said, bowing his head lightly.  
  
Jaime had a feeling Cersei was the reason his morning duties of guarding the King were cut short. And he knew he was correct, because as soon as King Robert and Ser Barristan walked out of the room, Cersei walked over to him.  
  
“Margaery Tyrell, sister?” Jaime asked, deciding that was a good way to start a conversation he didn’t want to have.  
  
“I know, I know, she wouldn’t normally be my first choice,” Cersei said, “I’d rather have chosen someone from the Westerlands. Someone we know is loyal to us. But I needed a name that was as attractive an option to Robert as Eddard Stark’s daughter is. If Eddard Stark’s daughter came to King’s Landing, Eddard Stark might follow her. I’ve already had enough of Eddard Stark’s brother’s occasional visits to speak with Robert, or the Small Council. I don’t need Eddard Stark here himself.”  
  
 _Eddard Stark’s brother? Benjen?_ Jaime wondered, _Benjen is the First Ranger at Castle Black, isn’t he? Or is that another change from the old world? Why does Benjen Stark visit the King and the Small Council enough that Cersei calls his visits ‘occasional’? Hmm… possibly a scheme initiated by fellow Traveler, Eddard Stark? Seven Hells, I need to talk to that man, and find out what he’s been up to! Yes, I need to leave King’s Landing sooner rather than later. If I leave soon, perhaps I can even catch up to the Tyrells and Martells before they leave Riverrun. I could arrive in Winterfell as just another part of their traveling party._ _  
_ _  
_“Margaery Tyrell is a fine choice,” Jaime said. “Father might even approve of such a choice.”  
  
Cersei snorted. “Somehow I think he’d rather have a daughter of a Westerlands House marry Joffrey. Someone whose father and family he can control. Mace Tyrell might be controllable, but his mother, the Lady Olenna?”  
  
Jaime grimaced at the mention of Olenna Tyrell. He still remembered her last words to him, the day he murdered her with poison. _Tell Cersei. I want her to know it was me._ Olenna Tyrell, not Sansa Stark, not Tyrion, had been responsible for Joffrey’s death in his old life.  
  
“It would be entertaining to witness a conversation between yourself and Lady Olenna,” Jaime said, “I can’t even say who would come out of that conversation on top. But let us not speak of that possible future _thorn_ in your side. Let’s discuss a current thorn in your side. Have you seen Tyrion this morning?”  
  
Cersei pursed her lips. “He didn’t show up for breakfast with myself and the children, which he does on the days he sleeps in the Keep. Which means he’s likely in a brothel. Why?”  
  
 _Because if I am leaving to go North soon, maybe even today, I am certainly taking Tyrion with me,_ Jaime mused, _I am certainly not leaving him here with you, without me here as a buffer._

  
“Because unlike you, I care for his well-being, and I like him to be where I can find him,” Jaime said, “Especially in this stinking cesspool of a city. And that is exactly what I am going to do since it seems I am not on duty at the moment. I’m going to go find him.”   
  
Cersei frowned and looked around the chamber, for eavesdroppers. There were none. and yet she still spoke softly. “Come to my chambers tonight. It has been a while.”   
  
“I can’t promise anything,” Jaime said.   
  
_ Actually I can,  _ Jaime said.  _ I promise to be away from King’s Landing long before this evening, and certainly nowhere near your chambers. Cersei’s offer has sealed it. I am leaving today, with Tyrion. As quickly as I can. _ _   
_ _   
_ “Go find  _ your _ children,” Jaime said, “I’m going to find  _ our _ brother.”   
  
Cersei frowned at his blatant use of  _ your  _ and  _ our.  _ However, before she could say anything, Jaime turned and walked away. Whether Cersei was too stunned by what he had said, or she simply didn’t want to say anything, she was silent as Jaime walked out of the room. He needed to find the sibling he actually  _ wanted  _ to spend time with right now.   
  
Finding Tyrion was actually much easier than Jaime had initially thought. It hadn’t even been half-an-hour since he had left the Red Keep. On his way to the Street of Silk, Jaime had time to figure out which brothel Tyrion might have been in. Since Tyrion apparently didn’t sleep in the Red Keep the previous evening, it meant he had likely spent the night in a bed in a brothel with a whore he had paid for.    
  
There were only a couple of brothels that had the option for a VIP or big spender -- of which Tyrion was both -- to spend an entire night with a whore. Only one of the two was owned by Petyr Baelish, and Tyrion always avoided any brothel owned by the man, simply because he knew Littlefinger’s whores would report back to the man about any conversations they had with their clients. The other brothel that had the option was Chataya’s. Fortunately, Jaime knew, Tyrion did enjoy that brothel. At least in his past life.    
  
_ And in this one as well,  _ Jaime smirked, as he heard the familiar voice of his brother, Tyrion.    
  
It had been quite easy to figure out which room Tyrion was in. All Jaime had to do was set a few coins in front of the woman at the desk near the front door, and ask which room the dwarf was in. The woman had taken the money and had told him.    
  
“Have you ever heard the joke about the honeycomb and the jackass?” Tyrion said, to his unseen companion.    
  
“Nobody ever wants to hear that joke, little brother,” Jaime said, as he pushed open the door to the room, and stepped inside.    
  
Tyrion was on the bed, in between two naked women who were probably in their late teens. Tyrion was the only one covered with a sheet, but Jaime assumed his brother was naked as well.   
  
“What do I owe this pleasure, brother?” Tyrion asked, “And why have you interrupted my current pleasures?”   
  
“I’ve come to collect you,” Jaime said, “We’re going North to Winterfell.”   
  
“The King is going to Winterfell?” Tyrion asked.   
  
“No, you and I are going to Winterfell,” Jaime corrected.   
  
“You are abandoning your duties as a Kingsguard, to head into the cold, dreary North?” Tyrion asked.   
  
“Technically I am an unofficial royal liaison, going to Winterfell, and the North to investigate what is taking place there,” Jaime said, “Which is what I will say to his Grace, Ser Barristan and the Small Council if they ask me -- hopefully in a letter when I am far away from here. We might also be headed to the Wall. Haven’t you always wanted to stand on the top of the Wall and piss off the edge?”   
  
The two whores giggled as they looked at their client.   
  
“Is that true, my Lord?” one of the whores said.   
  
“It is,” Tyrion said, with a grin, as he looked at the whore, “It is very true.”   
  
“That is so cute!” the other whore said.    
  
Jaime sighed, then took a bag of coins from his pocket and threw it to one of the whores.   
  
“You’re finished here, thank you,” he said, “Split the coins between the two of you. But leave… please.”   
  
One of the whores took the bag, and rolled off the bed, and the other followed. Tyrion pouted as he watched the naked women leave the room.   
  
“Why do you always have to interrupt me when I am in the middle of having fun with whores?” Tyrion asked.    
  
“I only interrupt you, when I need to find you,” Jaime said. “And if you are missing, then you are always so predictably easy to find. Usually in a brothel with whores. And that is why, when I find you, I tend to interrupt you in the middle of when you’re having fun with whores. If you didn’t lay with whores so much, I might not find you with one.”   
  
“A fair point,” Tyrion muttered, “Why are we going North?”   
  
“The Tyrells and Martells are going North to Winterfell and the Wall,” Jaime said. “I want to find out why. In fact, they are apparently meeting up at Riverrun, and perhaps even staying there for a few days. If we can make a quick journey, just the two of us, we might be able to meet up with them there, before they leave. At the very least, I hope to meet up with them before they arrive at Winterfell, so we can arrive at the home of the Starks together.”   
  
“This is not your only reason for going, is it?” Tyrion asked.    
  
“It is the reason I am currently willing to tell you about,” Jaime said. “Especially when every wall in this wretched city has ears. Get dressed. We’re returning to the Keep, then packing our things, and leaving… and doing it all, I hope, without being noticed by Cersei, Robert, Ser Barristan or anyone else. So we must be quick. So get dressed now!”   
  
“So Cersei doesn’t even know you’re leaving?” Tyrion asked.    
  
“No, she does not,” Jaime said, “And I hope to be long gone from King’s Landing before she discovers either of us missing. So get up and get dressed please. I will wait outside. Oh, and…”   
  
Jaime walked over to the table, and grabbed a jug of nearly full wine. Dornish by the look of it.    
  
“I’m taking this so you can’t drink it,” Jaime said. “I need you sober so we can leave King’s Landing unnoticed.”   
  
“Fine,” Tyrion said. “Why am I going with you, by the way? And don’t tell me it is because I want to piss off the top of the Wall.”   
  
“Because Cersei will probably kill you if I am not here to stop her,” Jaime said.   
  
Tyrion raised his eyebrows, then smiled glumly. “Well… I can’t argue with that.”   
  
Jaime smirked, and left the room, then stood guard outside it, as he waited for his brother to emerge.    
  
It was time to leave this stinking pit of a city.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am stopping the chapter here. I don’t want to write Jaime and Tyrion leaving King’s Landing, as it might be too complicated. I’ll summarize it the next time I write a Jaime PoV. 
> 
> Next Chapter: Lyarra meets her new horse, discovers a new unexpected change, and, among other things, has another conversation with her Uncle, and does some sparring with Eddard and Jory.


	6. Lyarra IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter I had completed before I began publishing the story. The seventh chapter isn't completed as of the publishing date of this chapter, so don't expect future chapters to come as fast as these first six have.
> 
> Hodor’s original name in this story is Willas, not Walder, like it was in the TV show, as much of this story is influenced by the TV show, more than the book.
> 
> Try to see if you catch a reference from another fantasy fiction series early in this chapter, if you can. And when I say “early” I mean VERY early.
> 
> Warning: Minor mention of Menstruation

**Lyarra  
  
** Lyarra’s horse was named Whisper, and she almost deserved it. She was one of the most quiet horses Lyarra had ever known. In the few minutes she had been with Whisper, the horse barely made any noise, and when it did, it was very quiet. Whisper was a snow-white palfrey, and the only other coloring on the horse were the brown spots of varying size scattered across her body. Lyarra thought she was gorgeous, and absolutely perfect for a young woman of her height, weight and body size.    
  
It had been about two hours since she had concluded her discussion with her Uncle Eddard, where they confirmed to each other that they were both ‘Travelers’, as the Old God referred to them as. It was probably their first of many discussions, regarding the ‘Traveler’ subject.    
  
Lyarra had spent much of the last two hours alone with Sansa, as they planned out and drew plans for their dresses for the day the Tyrells and Martells would arrive. To assure the privacy Sansa wanted when making the dresses, they had been in Lyarra’s bedroom, instead of the part of the Keep where the sewing circles usually took place.    
  
Thankfully, Lyarra could rely on her counterpart’s old memories when it came to dressmaking, and by the time their planning was finished, she had been able to come up with some ideas that seemed to satisfy Sansa.They would be starting the initial stages of making the dresses the following morning. In fact, Lyarra -- with some help from Sansa -- had already picked out some pretty colors of fabric that she thought would look good for the dress. Lyarra had confided in Sansa that there was a good chance she -- Lyarra -- might end up betrothed to Doryn Sand, which caused Sansa to emit a very girlish squeal, and suggest some Dornish-friendly colors to add to her dress to impress the only son of Prince Oberyn Martell. Lyarra had agreed easily with such a suggestion.   
  
As Lyarra brushed Whisper’s mane with a dandy brush, with one hand, and ran her other hand across Whisper’s body to calm her, her mind was elsewhere thinking about the latest unexpected changes in this world.. Both changes were localized to Winterfell, and in the long run, they weren’t very important, though when it came to one of the changes, what it did mean brought questions to Lyarra’s mind immediately when she had discovered it.   
  
The first change was that there were more glass gardens in Winterfell than there had been at this time in Jon Snow’s world. Lyarra easily guessed that Lord Stark had ordered them built, sometime over the last six years, perhaps shortly after his arrival in this world? Lyarra wondered if her Uncle had requested that other glass gardens be built all over the North, to better prepare for the future. It was something Lyarra knew she would do if it was up to her.   
  
The second change, the bigger one, in Lyarra’s mind, was that Hodor, the big friendly, simple-minded giant stableboy, was not Hodor in this world. His name was Willas, the name he had been born with, and Willas could speak a lot more words than just simply “Hodor”. 

When Lyarra had entered the stable to meet Whisper for the first time (even though the old Lyarra had owned Whisper since her thirteenth nameday), the big, friendly giant, Willas greeted her with a “Good morning, Miss Lyarra. Here to see Whisper?” Suffice it to say, Lyarra had been too stunned by this new change to do nothing more than nod, as she looked through her memories for what she knew about this new Hodor. That was when she found the truth about him.   
  
Lyarra thought back to her old life, and what Bran had told Jon Snow about Hodor’s death. He had explained that he was the reason Willas became Hodor so long ago, due to an accident having something to do with the Three Eyed Raven’s powers.    
  
_ What does that mean for this world?  _ Lyarra wondered, as she switched the dandy brush to her other hand, and continued brushing Whisper, and moved her free hand to the palfrey’s nose, rubbing it to calm the horse down.  _ Does that mean Bran won’t become the Three Eyed Raven? I should ask Uncle Eddard about this. But not until tomorrow, when we ride out of Winterfell for a private spar. The change isn’t too important to discuss immediately with Uncle Eddard, and obviously he probably had known about such a change for years now and had already contemplated what such a change meant. He probably discovered the change on his first day in this new world, like I have. _ _   
_ _   
_ Laura's musings were interrupted when she heard Bran Stark’s voice talking in low tones, from a couple stalls down from where she was. She smiled as she saw Bran with his horse, Colt. Uncle Eddard had told her that Bran adored his horse, and now she was getting first-hand proof of that.    
  
Lyarra turned back to Whisper. “I’ll take you out tomorrow for a ride, girl. How does that sound?”   
  
Whisper responded with a very soft neigh, and what Lyarra thought was a short nod. It seemed the palfrey had understood her.   
  
“I’d take you for a walk around the yard, today, but I’m not exactly dressed for it,” Lyarra said. “I thought I’d be spending the whole day in the Keep today. But I had to see you, didn’t I? Mmhmm.”   
  
Even though it was a fine day out, weather-wise, Lyarra was wearing one of her light fur coats that covered her skirt, and would protect her from the elements, and from getting mud on her skirt. She would definitely be wearing something far more appropriate tomorrow, when she went riding and sparring with her Uncle.    
  
After spending a few more minutes with Whisper, talking to the palfrey, feeding the beautiful girl an apple, and patting her with her hand, Lyarra left Whisper’s stall. As Lyarra neared the stall Bran was in, her young cousin emerged from it.   
  
“Not riding today?” Lyarra asked.   
  
“Maybe after lunch if Robb wants to go,” Bran said, “I have archery lessons right now, but Ser Rodrik let me see Colt first.” He sighed and looked down at his feet, “I’m still not very good with a bow and arrow.”   
  
“Well, that is what the lessons are for,” Lyarra said. “You think I was as good as I am now at your age?”   
  
Bran shook his head. “No, but Arya can hit the targets better than I can! And she doesn’t get to attend many lessons!”   
  
“She trains in secret when nobody is around,” Lyarra said. “If nobody can find her, she’s usually at the targets with the bow, or the dummies with a sword.”   
  
“I know,” Bran said. “I catch her at it sometimes. But I don’t snitch. I never would!”   
  
“Of course you wouldn’t,” Lyarra said. “Well, if you want to get better with a bow, you better go attend your lesson. Before too long, and with enough hard work, I’m sure you’ll find yourself improving.”   
  
“Thanks, Lya,” Bran said, smiling.   
  
Lyarra smiled and watched as Bran hurried out of the stable after saying goodbye to Willas.    
  
“No riding Whisper today, Miss Lyarra?” Willas asked as Lyarra passed him.   
  
“Tomorrow,” Lyarra said. “I was just saying ‘hello’, and spending some time with her today.”   
  
“I’ll have your saddle ready for tomorrow then,” Willas said.   
  
“Thank you, Willas,” Lyarra said. “I’ll see you later.”   
  
“Goodbye, Miss Lyarra,” Willas said.    
  
Lyarra smiled and left the stable. There was one more stop she wanted to take before she returned to the Keep. She headed over to Mikken’s smithy, and found Gendry Waters -- looking so much younger than the first time she had met him in her old life -- working with dragonglass at an anvil.   
  
“Hey, Gendry,” Lyarra called.   
  
“One moment!” Gendry returned; after a few moments, he turned and walked over to Lyarra, “Lya! Greetings. What can I do for you?”   
  
_ He calls me Lya, instead of Miss Lyarra,  _ Lyarra mused,  _ I bet Arya told him to call me Lya, or she would smack him or something. _   
  
“Are there any dragonglass bastard swords in our stock?” Lyarra asked.   
  
Gendry winced. “Apologies, Lya. I think Lord Stark sent the last batch of dragonglass bastard swords to the Wall just a couple days ago. Hadn’t had a chance to start on a new batch yet. But, I can make you one. Tell you what… I’ll even make you a custom one!”   
  
“Well, if you’re offering,” Lyarra said, “The only customization I would like is a snarling, red-eyed white wolf head as the pommel.”   
  
“White wolf, red-eyed and snarling,” Gendry echoed, then nodded after a few moments’ thought. “I can do that. No other changes? Modifications to suit your height, weight and whatever?”   
  
“Nope,” Lyarra said, “I am fine with a normal dragonglass bastard blade,” Then grinned and winked, “Unless you have some extra Valyrian Steel around here to mix into the blade or something.”   
  
Gendry let out a laugh. “I wish! Wouldn’t that be something?! Alright then, a normal dragonglass bastard blade with a snarling red-eyed white wolf as the pommel. That I can do. I’m also good at making sheaths for swords. I could make one with your name on it. And maybe the Stark sigil?”   
  
“Then I’d have to change it if I ever get married,” Lyarra said. “Just make me a black, leather sheath for a bastard sword that I can put on my back and fit onto my horse’s saddle. I’ll have it customized with my name and sigil later. If I like your work, maybe I’ll let you do the customization too.”   
  
“Normal, black leather sheath then,” Gendry said, “Alright. Have a deadline for it?”    
  
“Within a week if you can,” Lyarra said.   
  
“I can probably do it in half the time, if I dedicate a few hours to it each day,” Gendry said, smiling. “Need something else?”   
  
“Not yet, but I might have another task for you after you’re finished with that one,” Lyarra said. “I’ll have a blueprint ready for you by then. Let’s just say it is a gift for a mutual friend, and it can be from both of us.”   
  
“Mutual… Arya?” Gendry asked, wide-eyed.   
  
“Arya, indeed,” Lyarra said, grinning. “Believe me, she’ll like what I have in mind for her, and she’ll like it even more if it is from both of us, and made by you.”   
  
Gendry smiled for a moment, and Lyarra even noted a slight blush, before he sobered and cleared his throat.   
  
“I look forward to seeing what you have in mind,” Gendry said, “And her reaction to it.”   
  
_ So do I,  _ Lyarra mused,  _ Even if she just gives you a hug, before smacking you on the chest for causing her to hug you. As long as it is only a hug, and nothing more for a couple of years -- at the very least until she’s Sansa’s age.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “ _ As do I,” Lyarra said, with a wink.   
  
Gendry blushed again, then cleared his throat for a second time. “Right then. I’ll get started on your request later today. Sorry we don’t have any bastard swords available in dragonglass right now.”   
  
Lyarra waved a dismissive hand. “A custom one forged by you would probably be better than any regular, random, bastard sword you could give me. Even if it is made in dragonglass!”   
  
Gendry gave a short laugh, and, after Lyarra gave him a farewell, replied in the same. Lyarra then walked away from the smithy, happy to reunite with Gendry, who she had considered a friend in her past life.   
  
As she headed back toward the Keep, she saw, in the distance, Robb sparring with one of the young recruits who was training to become either a guard, or a Winterfell soldier. Theon and a few other recruits were nearby, cheering and jeering the fighters on. Lyarra smiled as she watched the spar, and found that Robb’s fighting style did not change much from his style in her past life. Even his choice of sword, a longsword, was the same he used in her past life.    
  
_ I don’t even know if he named the sword he used during the War of the Five Kings,  _ Lyarra thought, sadly,  _ Hmm, that reminds me I’ll have to come up with a name for the sword Gendry makes me. _   
  
She remembered asking Robb once in her old life, why he wouldn’t train with a greatsword, like Ice was, when he was destined to inherit it (sadly, such a thing would never happen in that life). Robb had shrugged and replied that Ice was, to him, mostly a ceremonial blade, and he would only use it for executions. He didn’t want to use Ice in battle, and be the one who lost the famed Stark Family sword if he died. Ironically, that is what Lord Eddard Stark had done, and the sword had ended up melted and forged into two different blades.    
  
With that grim thought, Lyarra stopped watching the spar, and headed back toward the Keep. She had lessons with Lady Catelyn -- which Sansa, Arya, Jeyne Poole and their companions attended -- in a few minutes and she didn’t want to be late. She needed to do another review of her memories before the lesson, to see what had taken place in some of the recent lessons. She didn’t want to be caught behind in the lessons. It would ask unwanted questions, questions she didn’t want to, or could not answer yet.   
  


* * *

  
  
Nearly twenty-four hours later, Lyarra was once again standing near her horse, Whisper, in the stable. A bastard sword which she had taken from the armory, was strapped to the horse’s saddle, in a sheath, and a wooden training sword from the training grounds, was strapped to her back. She was wearing warm, leather clothing that was perfect for her for riding and sparring. It fit well to her body and she was sure she could fight well in it.   
  
As she tightened the straps on Whisper’s saddle, Lyarra thought about the last twenty-four hours. She had spent much of the day yesterday, after her lessons, with her family and just relishing in the fact that she was together with all of them again. She couldn’t help but smile during every discussion.    
  
By the time dinner the previous evening had come around, the other highborn girls of the North, who were companions to her, Sansa and Arya had apparently learned from Sansa that there was a good chance Lyarra could soon be Betrothed to Doryn Sand. So Lyarra had spent much of dinner in quiet discussion about  _ boys  _ in the romantic sense. Not exactly something Jon Snow would have ever discussed so it was a big difference. During the discussion, Lyarra had discovered that Wynafryd and Robb had become rather friendly -- though neither had many any moves romantically toward one another -- as of late. Lyarra wondered if Robb would soon be getting Betrothed as well.   
  
Sansa did not join Lyarra in bed the night before. Lyarra discovered from her memories, that during those days where she or Sansa had their moonblood, that they usually spent the nights alone in their own beds instead.    
  
A noise broke Lyarra from her musings, and she found her Uncle, Eddard Stark, moving toward her, pulling the reins of a gorgeous white Garron. Lyarra noted that the horse looked familiar to the same horse Lord Stark owned in their old world, and she wondered if it was the same horse.    
  
“You ready, Lyarra?” Uncle Eddard asked.   
  
“Ready, sir,” Lyarra said.

“Mount up, then,” Eddard said, “Jory and two of our personal guards are waiting for us outside the stables. They’ll be joining us.”   
  
Lyarra mounted her, as Eddard watched her nearby. She sighed in relief when she found that mounting a horse wasn’t much different in her female body, than it was when she was Jon Snow. She hadn’t needed any help from Eddard.   
  
“Well done,” Eddard said, “Didn’t look too difficult. Muscle memory?”   
  
“Maybe that and a combination of what I remember doing so from my past life,” Lyarra said, in a low tone. “I don’t think I’ll have any issues, and I certainly won’t need help mounting Whisper.”   
  
“Good,” Eddard said, before mounting his horse.   
  
“Does Jory know what we’re doing?” Lyarra asked, when her Uncle was steady on his horse.   
  
“He does not,” Eddard said, looking over his shoulder at her, “He knows we’re going to have a private spar, but doesn’t know why. It is up to you whether or not you wish to tell him. He doesn’t know we hold a similar secret either, though I don’t want you to tell him yet. But we need a guard close to us, watching us, when you practice. The other two guards will be the lookouts for any dangers, during your practice.”   
  
“I’ll tell him why we’re having this spart, during the journey,” Lyarra said. “Er… can Jory and the other guards be out of hearing range at some point while we ride? I have something to discuss with you.”   
  
Eddard must have realized she meant she wanted to discuss something to do with the business of being Travelers, because he gave her a look, then nodded.    
  
“I can request them to do so,” Eddard said, “if you wish it, yes.”   
  


“I wish it,” Lyarra said.   
  
“Then I will arrange it,” Eddard said. “Let’s get going.”   
  
Lyarra nodded and waited until her Uncle was making her way out of the stable, before ordering her horse to go. She followed her Uncle out of the stable at a trot, then continued as he led them toward Jory and their two private guards, all of whom were also on horseback. As soon as they reached the guards, the group headed out of Winterfell through the Hunter’s Gate.   
  
Once they were on the road, heading toward the Wolfswood, the lead guard rode ahead to keep a pace a few yards in front of Eddard. Jory rode behind Lyarra and Eddard, but still relatively close to them. The other guard moved to the back and remained several yards behind Jory as the group of riders sped up their pace.   
  
“Jory?” Lyarra called, as soon as she felt they were on a steady pace toward their destination.   
  
Jory sped up his horse and moved beside Lyarra. “Yes, Miss Lyarra?”   
  
“Thank you for accompanying myself and Lord Stark on this journey,” Lyarra said, “I know it is unscheduled, and you probably have other things you could be doing.”   
  
“I don’t mind,” Jory said, “It is nice to occasionally do things like this, especially when the reason we’re doing it is not because Lord Stark has to execute a deserter of the Night’s Watch. Though I have to say, there have been less of those since Lord Stark has helped the Watch with his suggested changes.”   
  
“I am sure you’re wondering why we’re doing this,” Lyarra said. “I know Lord Stark didn’t tell you.”   
  
“It is not my job to ask questions or wonder about Lord Stark’s motives, Miss Lyarra,” Jory said, with a smile. “It is my job to do what he orders me to do.”   
  
“But you’re still curious, I’m sure,” Lyarra said, “I can tell you why.”   
  
“If that is your wish,” Jory said.   
  
“Well, I am sure you’re wondering why I wasn’t at sparring lessons with your Uncle, Robb and the boys,” Lyarra said, “To be blunt, I am going through my moonblood, and Lady Stark believes I should not attend sparring lessons. Lord Stark disagrees, and thinks I should attend lessons, because if I end up in battle in the future, I will probably be fighting during my moonblood. He wants to know if I am able to spar while I am going through this condition.”   
  
Jory nodded and considered this, as he watched Lord Stark riding ahead of them.    
  
“And I assume he wants to do so in private,” Jory said, “So to avoid questions by others -- such as Robb, or even Greyjoy -- about why you’re sparring with him instead of themselves and my Uncle.”   
  
“Probably so,” Lyarra agreed.   
  
“Well, it is a fine idea,” Jory said, nodding, “If it is inevitable for you to end up in a battle or a war -- whether it be with the monsters beyond the Wall, or perhaps a more human enemy later in your life, it might be best to know if you’re capable of fighting in any condition.”   
  
“I agree,” Lyarra said, “And that is why we’re out here today.”   
  
“Well, thank you for telling me even though you didn’t have to,” Jory said, then grinned, “And between you and me, I was curious. Thank you for letting me know.”   
  
“You’re most welcome, Jory,” Lyarra said.   
  
“If that is all you need of me, I will return to my post along the riding party,” Jory said.   
  
Lyarra nodded. Jory stopped his horse, as Lyarra continued riding, then started when he was at an appropriate length behind Lyarra. Then Lyarra rode ahead and kept a pace with her Uncle. She looked at him meaningfully, and Eddard gave her a small nod.    
  
“Halt!” Eddard said, raising a hand.   
  
Lyarra watched as the guards at the front and back stopped then turned in the direction of their Lord. Jory rode up beside Eddard.   
  
“Something amiss, Lord Stark?” Jory asked.   
  
“We’re nearing the spot I wish for us to stop at,” Eddard said, “Jory, take Harys and scout ahead for any possible dangers. Callen, you can remain with us, but stay where you are.”   
  
The guard, Callen, which was the one behind the group, nodded once and didn’t move an inch. He simply began looking around the vicinity for any dangers. Jory rode around Eddard and headed off with Harys ahead on the road.   
  
“You wished to speak to me about a private matter, niece?” Eddard asked.   
  
“Yes, but I suppose it isn’t important in a life-changing way,” Lyarra said.   
  
“Anything you need to say to me is important to me,” Eddard asked.   
  
Lyarra shrugged. “It is about Willas, the stableboy. He was known as Hodor in our old world, because it was the only word he spoke. I just… didn’t expect that change. Especially given what it meant. Bran, he told me about Hodor.”   
  
“Yes, I witnessed that unfortunate event in the visions,” Eddard said, with a grimace. “I also vaguely remember the day it happened. The truth is, I knew Willas before he became Hodor. I knew him when he was just Willas. A simple boy, but a lot more… loquacious then Hodor became. And yet… I still caught myself calling him Hodor when everyone else did, and I never reprimanded you, my children, or anyone else when you called him that. Because… well, that is what he was known as, and I don’t think he minded that.   
  
“But yes, when I arrived in this world, I too was surprised to discover such a change. I realized just what such a change meant.”   
  
“Bran will never have an accident with his Sight, or whatever, at least when it comes to Hodor,” Lyarra said, “Perhaps this means he might not become the Three Eyed Raven.”   
  
“It doesn’t mean that, Lyarra,” Eddard said, smiling sadly, “Bran could still make a journey to the Three Eyed Raven and become his apprentice. It simply means that Willas likely won’t accompany him this time. I’ve thought about this a lot over the years… when it comes to Bran and the Three Eyed Raven. If Bran is destined to go to the Three Eyed Raven, and I am able to do it, I will be leading the party that brings Bran to that Heart Tree beyond the Wall where the Bloodraven resides. Because I intend to speak to Bloodraven, and find out exactly what his intentions are for my son. If I am satisfied, Bran can remain with Bloodraven and become his apprentice. If not… well, I’ve thought about that a lot over the years. Most of the time, my conscience tells me to kill Bloodraven, if I am not satisfied, or if I find that Bloodraven is a danger to my son.”   
  
Lyarra snorted. “I’d do it for you. You might have had the visions, but I lived through it. I saw what Bran became… there wasn’t much, if any, of Bran left. It was mostly just the Three Eyed Raven. I couldn’t recognize the boy I knew anymore. The things he would say sometimes… I wanted to slap him. The only reason I resisted, was because I didn’t think he’d feel it, or react to it in any way.”   
  
Eddard grimaced and nodded. “Yes. Half of me just hopes Bran never has to become the Three Eyed Raven.”   
  
“And the other half?” Lyarra asked.   
  
Eddard looked Lyarra in the eyes. “Fears that he will become the Three Eyed Raven no matter what I do. Part of me also fears that Bran will have to suffer a similar injury to what he did last time in order to start the journey to become the Three Eyed Raven.”   
  
“‘Bran The Broken’,” Lyarra said, with a shiver.   
  
“I also fear such an event is inevitable no matter how much I try to prevent it,” Eddard said.   
  
Lyarra nodded sadly. “I fear that you might be right, Uncle. Harys and Callen, by the way. They’re the ones who followed  _ her  _ into the brothel, whenever she visited, aren’t they?”   
  
“They are,” Eddard said, nodding.   
  
“Thought so,” Lyarra said. “I also noticed that there are more glass gardens in Winterfell then there were in our world. I suppose that is your doing?”   
  
“Indeed, it is,” Eddard said. “It was actually something I had been planning before Robert and the royal party arrived in our last life, but as I was named Robert’s Hand, I never got around to it. So I made it one of my first tasks to get more glass gardens built.”   
  
“And the rest of the North?” Lyarra asked. “Are there more glass gardens around the North as well?”   
  
“Yes, at most castles and keeps around the North,” Eddard said, “They’re producing quite well, I’ve heard, from the recent letters I’ve received. The North will be quite ready food and cropwise, if the Long Night comes. There’s even enough to give a steady supply to the castles as the Wall, which helps with the food supplies, as there are so many more Night’s Watchmen now.”   
  
“Would have been nice to get a steady supply of food from glass gardens in my last life,” Lyarra said.   
  
“Indeed,” Eddard said, “Unfortunately attention to the castles at the Wall, and the Night’s Watch was quite lax from the North and Westeros in general. Which is why I made sure to dedicate some of my time and power as the Warden of the North to the Wall and the Night’s Watch this time.”   
  
“I am sure the Night’s Watch appreciates it all,” Lyarra said.    
  
“Aye,” Eddard said; he nodded down the King’s Road. “Jory and Harys are returning. Is that all you needed to ask me?”   
  
“Yes,” Lyarra said, “Thanks.”   
  
“Lyarra,” Eddard said, “What you wanted to talk to me about, it might not have seemed important to you. But don’t let that ever stop you. Don’t be afraid to talk to me about anything.  _ Anything. _ ”   
  
Lyarra nodded, with a smile. “Thank you, Uncle.”   
  
Eddard smiled softly, before turning and waiting as Jory returned to his side.   
  
“The road is clear as far as my eyes could see,” the Captain of the Guard said, “Harys couldn’t see anything off in the woods on either side of the road. And he is one of the best when it comes to that skill -- spotting things in the dense trees -- so I trust his word.”   
  
“Thank you, Jory,” Eddard said, then raised his voice, “And you, Harys, and you as well, Callen. Let’s be off. We’re almost at our destination.”   
  
An hour later, Lyarra was sitting on a stump at the edge of the relatively large clearing that Eddard had brought them to. She took a gulp from one of the waterskins she had packed, before she bit down on a piece of dried beef, tore off a chunk, and began to chew it. The clearing they were at was not something Lyarra was familiar with in her last life, but Eddard explained that, without her needing to ask why. He told her that the area used to be as dense with trees as the area was behind where she was sitting. But this area was just one of the latest of several which had been cleared out by woodcutters of Winterfell for the Keep’s stockpile of wood used over the years. The stump she was sitting on was likely from a tree used for firewood and kindling in the last few moons.    
  
She was worn out, but satisfied with her work over the past hour. She sparred with both her Uncle and Jory, using the wooden practice sword at first, then the bastard sword she had brought with her.    
  
She didn’t know if it was due to Lyarra’s skills, or the ‘muscle memory’ she had brought over from her life as Jon Snow, or a bit of both. But Lyarra felt really  _ good  _ at her current skill level when it came to sparring with a sword. Jory had been rather impressed.   
  
“Well, if you ask me, I don’t think your current ‘condition’ hinders your sparring ability,” Jory had said, after Lyarra had a couple spars with him, first with the wooden sword, then the bastard sword, “I think you’ve actually improved greatly since the last time I watched you spar. I think you could win against Robb and Greyjoy with your skills at swordplay, instead of that stamina advantage trick you like to pull on them!”   
  
“A very good thing, that is, too,” Eddard commented, “In a fierce battle, stamina isn’t going to give you any advantage until the latter half of it. You’ll need to use your strength and skills of swordplay to defeat your opponents from the beginning of the battle.”   
  
“Aye,” Lyarra agreed. “And much of the time I might be outnumbered two to one, or more than that. So… how about the two of you come at me at once and see how long I can last?”   
  
Not very long, it appeared. Not at first anyway. At first, she could handle it when Jory came at her, but when Eddard followed up a few moments into the battle, she was soon knocked onto the ground and defeated. Of course, much of the time, she hadn’t been able to see Eddard come at her when she was focused on Jory. Then she started thinking about her experiences as Jon Snow, and started to get better every spar after that. Sure, she’d still get defeated, but it took a lot longer to do so. She had lasted nearly ten minutes during the last spar when she faced both opponents. After a break, the lessons returned to one-on-one, and Lyarra mixed both strength and stamina and defeated both Eddard and Jory a few times.    
  
“Here’s an idea,” Jory said, after taking a gulp of water from his wineskin, “Let’s not discuss the fact that you could routinely knock me down and defeat me today, when we’re back in Winterfell. I’d probably lose respect from my men.”   
  
“I won’t tell your secret,” Lyarra said. “But what about Harys and Callen? Can you get them to keep their silence? I saw them snickering and grinning a few times when I knocked you down.”   
  
Jory huffed. “I can handle those two.”   
  
“Hopefully better than you can handle me,” Lyarra said with a smirk.   
  
Jory rolled his eyes as Eddard let out a laugh.   
  
“She has a point, Jory,” Eddard said.    
  
“Yes, she does, my Lord,” Jory said, then he looked around, stood up and removed his sword from its sheath. “Where’s Harys?”   
  
Eddard stood up immediately, pulling out his sword -- which was not Ice -- and Lyarra soon followed. They looked around for a few moments, before hearing a sound of sticks breaking near them. They turned and saw Harys running toward them. He reached them and bent over, catching his breath.   
  
“What are you running from, man?!” Callen demanded of Harys, as he approached the group, “Spit it out!”   
  
“Calm, Callen,” Jory said, “Harys? What can you tell us?”   
  
“Something is coming toward us from that way,” Harys said, panting, “Something… big. It was definitely an animal, and it was huge!”   
  
“There!” Callen exclaimed, pointing to something from the direction Harys had been running from. “By the Gods! Am I seeing things? Is that…?!”   
  
Lyarra turned and looked in the same direction. Her eyes widened as she saw the animal several yards away from them, sitting and watching them curiously, but also looking surprisingly calm.   
  
It was a very large Direwolf, colored pure white like Lyarra’s old companion, Ghost, had been, though this wolf wasn’t an albino. Lyarra then realized something. This… this was Ghost’s mother!   
  
“That is a Direwolf,” Eddard stated. “And I have been waiting for her, for quite a while.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger! My apologies for not writing an actual sparring scene. I am better with dialogue than action, but I promise that will change in the future of this story. After all, I expect to write about a few battles later on in this story!
> 
> So Hodor is Willas in this world. What does that mean for the future, when it comes to Bran? I suppose we’ll see!
> 
> Hope you liked this chapter! I admit it was more of a filler, and I was having issues with finding stuff to write about, but I thought it turned out okay.
> 
> Next Chapter: A Ned PoV as he meets the Direwolf. Will she agree to go to Winterfell, to have her pups there? Plus, Ned speaks to Robb about a Betrothal, and more!
> 
> I hope to have the next chapter published in the next few days, but we'll see. It is a rather complicated chapter to write, I am finding.


End file.
